Every Silver Lining has its Cloud
by Diresquirrel
Summary: Forgotten Realms Crossover Buffy is late in stopping Angelus and most of Sunnydale is pulled into Acathla's portal ending up in the Nether Mountains in northern Faerun. Warnings for occasional naughty words, heavy violence, and gnomes.
1. Slipping into the Unknown

**AU as of the end 02.22 "Becoming, Part 2." Buffy was not able to stop Angelus from opening Acathla's portal and as a result Sunnydale finds itself…elsewhere. Crossover with Dungeons & Dragons, The Forgotten Realms (pre-4th Edition).**

* * *

Maybe it was just coincidence, but it seemed like everything was getting in her way to the point of a higher power practically kicking stuff in front of her. The cops, the box of crap she had to dodge on the way out, the ambulance parked in the road she had to go around. Then there were more cops, the hospital, more cops, Spike, her mother and all sorts of other trouble. When Buffy finally arrived in the mansion, she was too late. The portal swirled and spun, images warped and twisted like a photo album turned to liquid and constantly flushing down a drain. Standing before it was Angelus, blade in hand and a smirk that threatened to cut his face in half.

"Well lover," he said, cracking his neck and stretching out his broad shoulders. He gave his blade a quick side to side slash to loosen up the muscles. He glanced back at the swirling portal with a prideful smirk. "What do you think?"

For once, the Slayer was at a loss for a quip. Angelus, being quite in love with himself, was quick to fill the void.

"I really have to thank Giles," the master vampire commented as he shook his arms out, rapier clasped in one hand. "He really came through for me in the end. Tough old guy, but his dear 'Jenny' helped me out. She had a real distinctive sound when I snapped her neck. Almost makes me wish I could do it over and over again, but hey, you can't have everything."

"I'm going to stop you," Buffy said, eyes art as her muscles tensed. She was like a leopard prepared to leap on the unsuspecting prey.

"No," Angelus taunted with a bemused shake of his head. "You're going to try."

"Well," Buffy said. "You know what Yoda says."

* * *

"Come on Giles," Xander said. "Gawd, old guys are heavy."

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry that my primordial legs are unable to carry my weight after I've nearly been tortured to death," Giles replied through gritted teeth as he struggled to put one foot in front of the other while Xander hefted him up. "I'm sure Angelus was thinking of this very situation when he tortured me."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Xander growled as they struggled to the hospital. "I've never liked him. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Only a few times in words, but I was able to read between the lines. I'm sure you thought you were being subtle," Giles replied with as much sarcasm as he could manage in his state. He groaned in pain as he misstepped up onto a curb, tripping and nearly falling forward. Xander quickly put his weight under the older man and kept him upright. "I wonder if I have internal bleeding."

"Sorry, Giles," Xander said as he forced the librarian upright. "Not a doc. Come on, only three more blocks." Blue and red lights started up as a cop car crossed the street to cut them off, the siren piercing in their ears.

The cop pulled his gun on them.

"Stay where you are! Hands in the air!"

Xander rolled his eyes as he held up one arm in a cast and held Giles upright with the other. "And once more the Sunnydale Fuzz is here to make things more difficult."

* * *

"I'm going to try again!" Willow declared. Her head buzzed, but she couldn't be sure if it was from the magic she was about to attempt or the concussion, but she ignored it all the same.

"You sure?" Oz asked in his eloquent fashion.

"Darn tootin'!" Willow declared seriously. After a few moments they'd arranged the ingredients and Willow began to chant. An uncomfortably lingering power filled the girl as her eyes turned pure black and began to infect her, seeping into her very veins, making her already pale face almost inhuman. The curse flew from her lips almost unbidden. The dark power coursed through her, giving her a taste for something that would ultimately redefine her destiny. Moments after the final words of the spell passed her lips, the lights in the hospital flickered, went out and then flickered back on as emergency power set in.

Only then did Xander drag in Giles, tortured and maddened, to the emergency room, no thanks to the SDPD. It had taken nearly ten minutes of quick talking to get them to let Xander take Giles to the hospital instead of both of them to the jail. Xander winced as Giles started to slip from his grasp. The doctors took over, doing their jobs, healing the older man as best they could under the circumstances.

* * *

Buffy felt her blade chip as the strength of the Slayer was pitted against the strength of a master vampire. It was doubtful the blade would be usable after the battle as foils were not intended for a battle of strength, but skill and precision. Neither combatant was actually a duelist and only the quick reflexes of the vampire allowed Angelus to keep up with the instinctive weapon skill of the Slayer. Buffy winced as her blade chipped again, a piece flying close to her eye. The flinch allowed Angelus to get in a quick slice, drawing a bit of blood from her arm.

"First blood, lover," Angelus taunted, stepping back, wave his blade so the dollop of blood flicked of the end to splatter on the white stone walls. He ran his tongue over the tip. "It's delightful. Can't wait for more."

"You'll have to," Buffy replied, stepping forward, her blade singing as it cut through the air, just barely nicking the vampire's shoulder. "Forgive me if I'm not that into blood licking."

"I don't know," Angelus replied. "Dru was a bit hesitant at first, but she turned into a real connoisseur with a little convincing."

"Xander and Willow were right," Buffy commented. "I do need to kick your ass."

She jumped in, her blade moving faster, more precise as she let the Slayer take over. She allowed her mind to take a back seat as the skills and memories of Slayers past guided her hand, arm and legs. The world seemed to slow down as she sped up. There was a brief moment of satisfaction as she saw another wince cross Angelus' beautiful face. She didn't hesitate and struck again and again, driving him backwards.

The swords crossed once more, her poor quality blade looking increasingly like something you'd find in a junkyard. Angelus' sword was still perfect, not a blemish on the silver finish save for Buffy's own blood.

"You're too late, you know," he said. "It's already open. It's too…" Angelus stiffened in mid taunt, his entire body tensing up. He made a sound that was more than a gasp, but less than a breath. Buffy's heart caught in her throat as his entire bearing changed in an instant.

"Angel?" she asked, mentally shoving the Slayer back, ignoring all the experiences of her predecessors telling her it was a trick. The vampire opened his fingers, letting the blade clatter to the ground as he fell to his knees. He looked up with horror and pleading at his opponent.

"Buffy?" he asked, sounding so much like a child in a man's body.

"Angel!" Buffy gasped out as she grabbed his head and pulled his lips to hers. They kissed deeply, as lovers. Angel looked up and saw the pain and determination in her eyes. The nod was almost imperceptible, but enough.

Buffy pulled back her arm and drove the blade through Angel's heart, blood sprinkling into the portal behind them. For an instant, the world seemed to roar like a thousand angry lions before echoing outward as a shockwave. Pulling the blade back out, Buffy's breath caught in her throat as the portal spun slower and slower, shrinking until Acathla's mouth snapped shut.

"Buffy?"

The Slayer looked down and realize she wasn't alone. He was still there. Tears in her eyes, convinced she'd just pulled them both into hell, she held the vampire close, wishing she could hear his heart beat as fast as hers was.

* * *

Spike had practically dumped Drusilla into the back of the DeSoto, the recently restored vampire not entirely willing. The bleached vamp jumped in the front, threw down the clutch and turned the key.

"No, Daddy," Drusilla said, clutching her head. "Bad Daddy! Nonononononononono! Spikey-Spikey, my William."

"Don't worry, love," Spike said as he ran over the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign with the car. It was bloody hard to drive with the windshield all tarred over, but he had no desire to burst into flames. "We'll live."

"No, Spikey, stop! Miss Edith says we need to stop!"

"We need to get the bloody hell out of here, love, is what we need to do," Spike countered. He started shifting through the gears going faster and faster, noticing all too late, the gorge that opened up in front of them. The DeSoto went over the edge, tumbling end for end into the shadowy depths of the rocky gorge.

"BLOODY HELL, SLAYER!"

* * *

Amy Madison had been in tune with her surroundings ever since she'd returned to her own body. Between worry that her mother could return and awareness of all the other claws that catch and jaws that bite in close proximity to the Hellmouth. This day was no exception.

She'd known something was wrong. Cops don't go knocking on doors looking for Buffy Summers unless something really went wrong. Cops don't police tape the school library unless something really went wrong.

But that didn't matter.

The budding witch sat up sharply in her bed, eyes wide, having gone from fully asleep to fully awake in an instant. She glanced around, not quite understanding the change. It took a moment, but it caught her attention, like hearing a familiar baseline to a song played through earphones on the other side of the room.

Magic was singing.

"I guess Sunnydale's not in Kansas anymore," she said before she started to hum along.

* * *

Mayor Richard Wilkins, I, II, and III woke up as usual at dawn. Or what was supposed to be dawn. His precisely timed internal clock, having been honed after over a century of fastidious living, woke him up at the incorrect time, at least judging by the light streaming through his window.

Pouring himself a cup of morning tea, he pushed the curtains aside and paused. The trees swayed in the breeze, the leaves of the grapevines in the vineyard flicked and flashed their dewy leaves in the light wind. And beyond them, great mountains rose up like clawed fingers reaching to the sky. Those sharp peaks in the distance were decidedly _not_ there when he went to bed. Taking a sip of tea, he pondered the situation.

"Gosh darn it," he said before taking another sip of tea. "Can't get a moment's rest."

* * *

In the more centrally located UC Sunnydale campus, Riley Finn looked up to the sky and carefully took note of what he saw. His other agents did the same, trying to grasp every change they could find. Their team had just been about to report back to the Initiative base when the sun, having been just barely morning twilight turned into noon but only if the rotation had changed. Forest Gates lowered his taser rifle as they pondered their surroundings in the bright sunlight, their military garb visible for anyone to see.

"Dr. Walsh?" Agent Finn said into his radio.

"Agent Finn, what can I do for you?"

"My team was out on patrol and just before sunrise something changed." There was just a slightly quaver in his voice.

"What changed? Is there some kind of problem?"

"Dr. Walsh, I think you and the Major should come above ground and see this. You wouldn't believe me if I just tell you."

"What is it?" She could tell by the catch in his voice that something had gone horribly wrong.

"The sun is in the wrong place."

* * *

_Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy._  
_The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction._  
_Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi._

_Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast in all its incarnations and permutations._


	2. Chapter 2

For several hours, Angel and Buffy held each other, taking solace in the knowledge that they would suffer in hell together. Buffy had finally become like all the other slayers - effectively dead before she was 18. She was stuck in a hell dimension, trapped away from everyone else she knew. Or so she thought. Although it had only been a short while, the sun was already going down. The entire daylight lasted only an hour for Sunnydale. As soon as the sun fell down behind the mountains, dropping the shadows on the displaced town, a certain perturbed vampire couple stormed back into the mansion. Well, Spike stormed, Drusilla just kind of hung limply under one of his arms.

"Bloody, bloody hell Slayer!" Spike said with a snarl. Buffy jumped to her feet, sword in hand. Spike dumped Dru into a chair.

"We had a deal Spike, your help for me not dusting Drusilla," the slayer snarled. "You should be driving away right now."

"You bollixed it up!" Spike screamed as he stalked forward, pointing his finger in her face. "The deal was I help you by taking Dru and driving away! I can't very well drive away if there isn't any bloody road!"

"Wait, Spike, why are you two all wet?" Spike spun around to glare at Angel, who was trying to keep from laughing.

"Well, when I was keeping my end of the bloody deal, the road out of lovely old Sunnydale was replaced by a gorge," Spike said, glaring at his grand sire. "Didn't have enough time to stop before we toppled right into the thing."

"Oooo! Oooo! Spiky, my Angel, they're wrong!"

"What is she babbling about?" Buffy said, still pointing a sword at Spike's throat. Drusilla was having one of her fits, her hands shook and she stared out the window with fear.

"Eh Love? What's wrong?"

"The Stars! The Stars are wrong!"

* * *

Everyone in Sunnydale noticed the new mountains, the changed stars and the abnormally short day. The sun had moved from its normal morning spot to a noon position in what was supposed to be north. People who looked at a compass could tell that north was now south and east was now west. Everything was wrong.

Somehow, Sunnydale had been transported away from the familiar stomping grounds of the hellmouth and was perched in a valley between two mountains. On one side was a growing lake caused by the sudden deposit of the town. On the other was a drop off that fell almost as deep as the Grand Canyon. Something was clearly wrong.

And everybody decided that Mayor Wilkins had to fix it.

"Now, now, people, let's sit down," the Mayor said in his usual jovial tone. Smiling at the podium, he addressed the crowd. "Now I know everyone is upset, but I think we should just relax a bit and talk these things over. It's not the end of the world today after all!"

"Mayor Wilkins, what happened?"

"Well, I myself don't really know, but I assure you that I'll have the best people on it," Richard Wilkins III said with a smile, motioning everyone to sit. "Now I guess you'll want to know who those are, well, I'll introduce them too you tomorrow after we have something to tell. Now if you'll all excuse me I have a meeting to attend."

Ignoring the cries for help and demands for knowledge behind him, the mayor walked back to his office. Telling his deputy mayor to take care of things, Wilkins prepared to call up an old friend.

"Ik tal mokkeri nun clava shi, Marvra'th!mokkkelitlikg'uranda," he intoned. Soon a face appeared before him. The demon Marvra'th!mokkkelitlikg'uranda glared down at the Mayor.

"Why have you summoned me?"

"We have a problem."

"We? Our agreement was for you to take care of your own problems."

"That was fine until I wake up one day and find out that my little Sunnydale is no longer sitting on top of a hellmouth," the mayor said calmly. He struggled to keep from sounding angry, but he was more than a little upset by the day's events. "I am supposed to have one year left, but the Ascension will be pointless if I cannot gather the power from the hellmouth." The face paused a moment taking in the new knowledge. The face hummed, bemused.

"Interesting, it seems that Acathla was momentarily revived," said Marvra'th!mokkkelitlikg'uranda. "It has the taste of a Slayer on it."

"Buffy Summers is the slayer in Sunnydale these days, though I hear a second one has been around lately," the Mayor explained. "Allan tells me she was the girl killed in the school yesterday. I don't know why there were two."

"Here is my advice: wait. Continue your work with the town, but at the same time, discover where you are and what happened to the hellmouth," mused Marvra'th!mokkkelitlikg'uranda. "Seek out a different hellmouth if worse comes to worst. There is at least one on every world I have seen. In addition, the Slayer could be of use. I will give you the extra time you need. You will ascend, Richard Wilkins."

"What about the Box of Gavrok?"

"I shall see that it arrives."

"Thanks Marv, I knew I could depend on an old friend when things went bad," The Mayor replied smiling jovially as usual.

* * *

"What do you mean the entire town fell into the portal?"

"Listen Slayer, I know what I saw," Spike said, holding Dru close to him. She kept staring at the stars and moaning about the wrongness of all things. Angel kept himself between them, just in case. The four were standing on the roof of the mansion, the tentative truce continuing as they sought information.

"Buffy, it's true, look at those mountains around us. Where's the ocean? Where are the rolling hills? It's all gone," Angel said confused. He sighed; Buffy never stopped glaring at Drusilla. "Buffy we might need them."

"Angel, you've got your soul back, good," Buffy said testily, not moving her gaze from Dru's moaning form. "But she just killed Kendra and I'm not going to forget it."

"I-I know. And just a few hours ago I was torturing Giles for information," Angel said with a wince. The glare was on him now. "Everything is different. We should go to the hospital and see if your friends are okay."

"No, I go in, you three stay here. I'll be back in a few hours," Buffy said angrily. "If I find out they've killed anyone they're dust, no questions asked."

"I'll keep them in line," Angel said.

"I don't know if you can."

"Buffy, it-it's a sire/childe thing," Angel said with a shrug. "A sire can command the childe to do almost anything. I can keep Dru in line."

"Then why didn't you do it earlier?"

"I don't like to use it; there's no free will. It's mind-bending," Angel said sadly.

"Don't worry, slayer, we won't be going anywhere," Spike said as he lit a cigarette. "I'm staying with Dru. And he won't do it because he doesn't like it. Darla tried it whenever Angelus went all artistic over some girl. That's why he made Dru like Dru."

"Spike," Angel growled.

"Oh, and if you're going to the hospital, think you could get me a pint of AB Neg? It's the best stuff," Spike said as if it were a jug of milk.

"Stuff it, fang face," Buffy said as she stalked away.

* * *

Buffy walked through the town, forgetting that she was wanted for murder, but the cops did not seem to be looking for her. They were too busy keeping people from rioting and looting. They were doing a good job, only a couple of places were hit too hard, the local magic store and the antiques shop that used to hold Ethan's Costumes. Or were those looted last Tuesday? Buffy couldn't remember.

The hospital was a mess. People were running all over the place. It seemed busier than usual, but not really as bad as some nights. She avoided eye contact and made her way to the Scooby double suite.

"Buffy, you're back! What happened out there? People are talking about mountains and it's really weird because we have no mountains around here, I mean we do have some hills that are pretty big and all, but it doesn't make much sense. Ooh! Did the spell work? I mean for my first big spell it's kinda hard, but it's really cool at the same time, people were saying that I went all weird and had all sorts of things painted on my face it was a real trip," Willow said, too happy to have her friend back to put the resolve face back on. After the spell, Willow had slept for hours resting from the exertion. Xander and Oz were there, sleeping in chairs. Giles was asleep in his own bed. Cordelia had wandered away to find something to eat.

"I'm okay, Willow, I'm glad you are too," Buffy said with a sigh. "The spell worked, but it was too late. Angel opened the portal and I had to stab him to close it." At Willow's look of concern, Buffy put up a hand to calm her. "No, he'll be okay; it's just going to take some time. The portal closed, but it had been open too long and it swallowed the town."

"So where's Angel resting, I mean it's the middle of the day," Willow said anxious.

"No, it's actually early night," Buffy nodded at Willow's wide eyes. "We're not in Kansas anymore. There are mountains all around us."

"Scooby meeting?" Both turned to see Cordelia wandering back in with drinks and snacks.

"Yeah."

"You guys really messed up this time," the brunette said sitting down.

"Yeah, that's what Spike said too, but he said I 'bollixed' it," Buffy said a little confused. "What is a bollix anyway?"

* * *

Deep in the valley a dark skinned elf crawled out of his hiding place as the sun fell below the horizon. He was cold and he was hungry. His panther rumbled pleasantly next to him as he called her forth from the black statue. He was a little confused as to what had happened as he was awoken from his meditations that afternoon. A sudden boom shook the valley followed by a burst of wind so powerful it knocked boulders off from their mountain perches. He was very lucky that no rockslides had covered the entrance to the cave during the event. He surveyed the damage with a saddened eye. Things had fallen all over, but on the other hand, his pursuers might have lost his trail in the destruction. Hopefully they survived. Even if they were after him, he wished them no harm for the case of mistaken identity.

Drizzt Do'Urden pondered his plight as he ate the little pieces of fish he had left. He would have to find some more soon. The destruction of the valley was not complete; there were plenty of trees and places untouched below. Some trees, however, were blown right over like the threshed wheat like he saw the Thistledowns harvesting before their murders.

The dark elf was not pleased with his situation. He knew that somewhere, there would be people who would treat him like an equal, not like an outsider. Or at least he hoped so. Being first hunted by his family and now by strangers, he wondered if he would be killed before he could find his place. At least he was not alone. Guenhwyvar stayed alongside him, ever the loving companion.

His memories of the previous night troubled him. He had been prepared to make peace with the light elf, but they had ended up fighting. No doubt, they were hunting him still. Why would they hunt him when they had already seen that he was not the culprit? Perhaps something would become clear in the coming days.

Pushing his troubled thoughts aside, he made his way up the valley.

* * *

Buffy was troubled by the events of the previous night as well. Her fight with Angelus was not truly finished. When she looked at Giles' unconscious body she shuddered, still having difficulty believing that the same man she loved was capable of such horror. She knew she was looking through rose-colored glasses, but she couldn't help herself. Separating the Angel from the Angelus was never going to be easy again. And they could never again...

"Don't think about it, Buffy," she said to herself. Willow had fallen back asleep after she had filled the budding witch in on the night's events and the morning's troubles. She was about to fall asleep herself. She had been up for more than a day so far and she was fading fast. She almost toppled over in her chair when her mother burst into the room.

"Buffy!" The blonde looked up at her distraught mother. This was a problem she had not remembered to worry about. Suddenly her mother's parting words rang in her ears: "If you leave now, don't ever come back."

"Mom, oh, I'm sorry, I'll leave, I know you don't want to see me," She started to get up from the chair, but Joyce pushed her back down into the chair. Buffy suddenly found herself bound up in her mother's arms. It seemed like Joyce was clinging on for deal life.

"That's not true. I didn't really mean what I said," Joyce said, sitting down in the chair next to her daughter. "I-well, I was angry and confused and I just blurted it out."

"Oh, Mom!" All the events of the previous two days came crashing down at once: Kendra's death, Angelus, Spike, Acathla. Buffy hugged her mother and cried.

"It took so much time to get here, everything is so chaotic right now," Joyce hugged her daughter back. "I was so afraid that you believed what I said, I was worried that when we were sent wherever we are now, that you weren't there with us."

"I didn't kill Kendra, Mom," Buffy said, sobbing.

"I know," was all that Joyce said, patting her daughter on the back.

* * *

Mayor Wilkins was preparing for tomorrow. He had a few calls to make, unfortunately, no one but the hospital had electricity and Sunnydale Medical Center was running on borrowed time. Their emergency power would run out sooner rather than later. It looked like he would have to make house calls. There were many things a politician does: diplomacy, manipulation, consideration, cooperation and others. But the one thing that every politician creates is a committee. Whenever the shit hits the fan, they call the best people together to deal with the situation for the committee, even if they were not directly connected. But Richard Wilkins was a good politician and he was a good mayor. After all, he had been doing the job for over a century. So he made up a list of the committee members. They would all show up, some willingly, some not so willingly and some would try and kill each other.

Glancing at the short list, it was going to be harder to get some of these than others. Harder still would be getting them to work together. Vampires and a Vampire Slayer at the same table might not be the best idea, but it was what he had to work with. Dr. Walsh was a scientist and might have a problem with dealing with magic. She was the type to try and quantify everything and might break when faced with something that did not compute. Colonel Hennessey was a soldier so he should take the knowledge and deal with it. The hardest part would be convincing him that a petite blonde civilian would be leading one of his teams. Once he learned of the situation he might be easily taken care of. There were the Slayer's friends and her Watcher and a few of her classmates. She had a very promising class, it was almost a shame he would most likely have to eat them.

He sent out his deputy to take care of the students and Mr. Giles. He would deal with the Initiative himself. Military, never could get used to them.

* * *

"Hello, Dr. Walsh," Richard Wilkins III held out his hand to her. He had driven to her apartment directly and had caught her just as she was about to leave.

"Mayor Wilkins, what a surprise," she replied with constructed surprise. "Whatever could you be doing here at the university? I would imagine that you have plenty of work back at City Hall."

"Well, gee, I guess you're right, but I just wanted to invite you and the Colonel to a little get together tomorrow morning to deal with a few problems," the Mayor replied jovially as usual. "I expect you to be there at daybreak, and no later!"

"Whatever do you mean? Are you inviting the university staff to a dinner when everything is going on?"

"Oh gosh darn it, I didn't want to play hard ball, but the jig is up," he said with a smile. "I meant your other colleagues, Dr. Walsh. I guess it's time to take the Initiative."

"That's classified." Her eyes narrowed.

"Now, now, let's keep this a polite conversation. There's not much in this town I don't know about," he said shrugging it off. "Don't you think it's time to get rid of all that trouble? After all you're going to be working with us soon anyway, unless you think you're going to declare martial law in my town?"

"I'll talk to the Colonel."

* * *

"Um, He-Hello?" Joyce turned to see a small man knocking on the door frame to the hospital room. "Is Buffy Summers here?"

"I'm Buffy's mother," She said. "Buffy is asleep right now."

"Oh, yes, well, I'm from the Mayor's office and I wanted her to know that the charges have been dropped," he said wringing his hands as he glanced over the bent and beaten kids in the room. "A-also the Mayor would like your daughter and her friends at a meeting tomorrow morning about the situation."

"Why would he want high school students at a meeting?"

"A-are you aware that your daughter is the Slayer?"

'Only in the past two days,' Joyce though with an edge of annoyance to her voice. "Yes, I am aware."

"W-well, the mayor is holding a conference on the subject at City Hall tomorrow," he said.

"Then we'll be there," replied Joyce.

"Oh, but you aren't invited-"

"Now you listen here, I am her mother and I don't care what the mayor says, where my daughter goes, I go," Joyce said, cutting him off. "And that goes for her friends as well."

"Oh," the man said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I'll tell the mayor that you are coming."

* * *

Drizzt hiked upstream through the rim of the rocky valley, climbing over boulders and other rough terrain. The panther at his side was wary of any other rock slides and was prepared to warn him if any such event were to occur again. It was strange how one night could change things so quickly. The stream that ran along the bottom of the valley had been flowing fast and deep the previous day, but now it was a mere trickle in comparison. As he wandered towards its source, he could see it growing smaller, too small for it to be a natural occurrence. It reminded him of when the rothe farmers would flood areas at some times and let the locks out, releasing a deluge of water which wash anything below out of the way. Many slaves had lost their lives when they did not heed the warning bell and he had no interest in being in the same danger.

Looking behind him, he could see the forms of the search party that had tracked him over weeks. They were good and no trick he pulled seemed to work. It was almost like they tracked him with magic, but he knew it not to be the case. He was both saddened and glad that they had seen the same signs of the stream shrinking. Luckily for him, he was on the opposite rim of the valley. Even if they spotted him, which would be quite easy with the downed trees and clear view against the sky, he would have enough time to escape. If only he could find his place in the world.

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	3. Chapter 3

City Hall the next morning was a madhouse. The interdimensional jet lag was affecting everyone in the town. Having the time zone shifted by 8 hours was more than a little difficult to adjust to, but people were given no choice. Groups had arrived early to protest the perceived inaction on the Mayor's part. Good thing he never needed to get elected.

Everyone who was invited to the committee was driven to a hidden parking garage under the building. Most people had never know such a place existed. After everything that had happened in the last 24 hours no one was really concerned about it. To a certain degree they should have been.

The issue was the fact that the parking garage, like most subterranean structures in Sunnydale, was connected to the sewer system. This sewer system was designed more like a subterranean city than a normal water works forming a perfect grid from north to south and east to west with various connected sections to other buildings. If one did not know the way, one could easily get lost. Mostly only the life-challenged spent time in the elaborate system, using it as a highway from place to place. It had served its dual purpose for nearly seventy five years. All in all, it was more complex than most city water systems. And it was about to be flushed.

When Sunnydale was transported on Acathla-airways, the city was gently deposited in the valley between two mountains. The area transported was not just a flat plane, but was actually a three dimensional elliptical shape that brought both ground and air and a bit of the beach. The lower part of this section was all the layers of any other geological strata in the area. This was deposited into the bottom of the valley. For whatever reason, Acathla had made quite sure to place the town perfectly level. Whether this was intentional or not, well, Acathla wasn't talking. The result was a perfect plug in the valley. The water which had so recently flowed with great power through the valley, suddenly had nowhere to go. As everyone tried to decide what had happened, the water was quickly filling up behind Sunnydale into what would be the first massive reservoir of this new world. Luckily for Sunnydale, the magical transportation had fused the new strata to the existing stone, so the town was in no danger of being washed away. The problem would soon be explained as the water filled the sewer system. The water needed some place to go and that place was right through the severed ends of the Sunnydale waterworks pipes. Currently the water was just backing up, but in only a few days the water would be high enough to flow through, flooding the sewer system nearly to ground level. It was going to be spectacular.

When Buffy and Joyce walked into the conference room both were surprised at the attendance. Buffy was surprised that her injured friends had attended. Willow was in a wheelchair as was Giles. Both looked like they should still be in the hospital, but desperate times made for desperate measures.

"Buffy!" Her friends perked right up when they saw her enter the room. Buffy ran over and gave Giles a hug.

"Buffy, though I am pleased to see you are all right, the morphine is not covering up all the pain so please let me go," her Watcher said with a wince.

"Buffster, glad you're back in one piece," Buffy turned to Xander who, though less damaged than the others, still had a few nasty bruises. "Cordy said you came by last night."

"Yeah, I stayed for a while but you guys never woke up. Mom and I needed to talk so we went home after the deputy mayor guy came by," Buffy said, placing herself in a chair between Xander and Willow. Turning to the redhead, she smiles: "Nice to see you better off than last night."

"Yeah, they gave me some drugs and it kinda had the opposite affect and I was all woooooooo instead of all zzzzzzzz," Willow explained with vibrant hand motions. Next to her, Oz nodded hello.

"Hey."

"Hey, Oz. Mom, you know Willow and Xander. This is Oz, Willow's boyfriend, over there is Jonathan ...why are you here?"

"I really don't know. Some guy just told me to be here."

"Okay, and this is my mom, Joyce Summers. And I don't know any of these other people."

"Hi, Buffy's mom!"

Before they could get into the rundown, the Mayor walked in, laughing and smiling as he always did even when faced with such a horrible situation. "Now, I know not everybody knows each other, but I expect we'll be good friends from here on out." He glanced around the table. "Oh dear me, it seems we're missing three people at the heart of the problem."

The door opened again to reveal the last three remaining Vampires from the line of Aurelius: Angelus, William the Bloody and Drusilla the Mad. The Scoobies froze with more than a little fear. Joyce let more than a little anger in her heart when she saw the man who had taken her little girl away from her. The man with the greased back hair and the long coat who had taunted her only a few short months earlier.

"What in hell are they doing in here?" Xander whispered to Buffy through clenched teeth. Giles' hands were white where he clenched his hands on the arms of the wheelchair.

"Well then, would it hurt you to be on time?" The mayor looked at them like a parent looks at children who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. "Well since all eyes are on them, why don't I start with the introductions: These here are Angelus, William the Bloody and Drusilla the Mad. All three are master vampires from the Line of Aurelius."

"I go by Angel now."

"Hey! Dru ain't mad! She's just a little different!" Xander tried to keep in the snerk, he really did, but it just slipped out.

"Gosh darn it, you three have caused us a lot of trouble," he said, wagging his finger at the three master vampires. It was like someone chastising a child for walking in the house with muddy boots. "Now why'd you think opening up Acathla was a good idea?"

Xander, Willow and Buffy all raised their hands at the same time. It was a little weird how synchronized. "How do you know about that?"

"Gee wiz, you can't rightly be Mayor of a town with a hellmouth without knowing about it, now could you?" Admittedly, it was a little hard to refute the logic. Giles, however, even through the morphine, knew something was up. "Well we all have a little problem thanks to you three."

"Actually, it's just them two, I knew it was a bloody rotten idea," Spike said with his usual style. He lit a cigarette and took a drag. "The git here was about the same even if he had his soul after. His fault, might as well toss him into the gorge outside."

"Spike!" Angel turned to growl at the bleach blond vamp.

"Now, William, that wasn't a very nice thing to say," Wilkins said in that same chastising tone, wagging his finger again. "You should apologize to Angel here." Spike looked at the Mayor as if he were madder than Drusilla. "You heard me, you owe your grand-sire an apology."

"I'm not bloody apologizing to that manky git!" Spike screamed as he stormed to his feet pointing at Angel's head. Angel grinned a little, just a little.

"Uh-uh. We're all going to sit right here until you apologize," the mayor commanded, crossing his arms over his chest. The cigarette fell out of Spikes' mouth and into his lap. Dru, without even looking, reached into his lap and put it out with her fingers.

A long moment passed between Spike and the Mayor. Finally, Spike turned to face Angel. "Sorry" he said sullenly.

"Sorry for what?" asked Angel with a wide smirk. He was loving it.

"Don't push your bloody luck!"

"Language, William!" Wilkins looked around the table like he was shocked and confused by the behavior. "Well, if we don't have manners, what do we have?"

"Mayor Wilkins, could we please get on with this," grumbled Colonel Hennessey. Colonel Hennessey was a portly career soldier with the typical military haircut and a low tolerance for people outside the chain of command who did not assist. He took orders from higher ranks and gave orders to those below. He was also clearly not happy about Wilkins's knowledge of the Initiative. It's existence, the existence of HSTs and the agency's mission statement were all very, very classified. The kind of classified that created completely blacked out copies when the freedom of information act was used. That the mayor knew was a very bad thing. He had also just introduced the three new arrivals as HSTs. The mayor also knew the best way to get in touch with him was through Dr. Walsh. He knew too much.

On the other hand, Hennessey, as the ranking officer, understood this was not a problem he alone could solve. He ran the military, not the city and there was a point where a certain amount of information about an emergency was understandable. He would have to deal with the much greater number of people who were not military and in this kind of situation, perhaps it was best if all the cards were on the table.

"Yes, I suppose we should," The Mayor said with a grin. "I don't suppose any of you can tell me why we're here?" There was a little laughter and rolling of eyes from the attendees from Sunnydale High. "Mr. Rupert Giles, as the local Watcher, why don't you give us all a rundown on the events leading up to this little trouble." Heads turned to face the overly beaten man in the wheelchair. Angel immediately flinched away from his gaze. Giles did not.

"I suppose I should start at the beginning, then, shouldn't I," Giles said, getting back to business. "In every generation there is a Chosen one…"

He spent the better part of the hour explaining the situation, the history of the Slayer, and the events up to this point, finally ending with the description of waking up that morning. Thankfully for everyone in the know, Giles edited somewhat the whole story of Angel's lost soul both for credibility and for Buffy's sake. After several stories of her exploits more than a few people were staring at Buffy with disbelief.

"Well, that brings most people up to date, why don't we continue with our introductions," the Mayor said with a smile. He gave a clear look to the Colonel, sitting on the other side of Drusilla. "Just give your name, what you do and tell us something about yourself."

"Humph. My name is Colonel James Hennessey, I work for the US Air Force and am in command of the local military base."

"Now, now, you can't expect us to get to know you with that little bit. Tell us something more about yourself."

"Fine, I wear blue. A lot." The Mayor didn't look like he was satisfied, but he kept the conversation going. The next was an Asian woman with a pageboy cut and reading glasses. She looked to be in her late thirties, early forties with only a few strands of grey in her hair.

"I am Dr. Amelia Chung, I am the administrator at Sunnydale Medical Center. I've worked there for ten years from my internship up to my current position. Other doctors don't like me because I'm as good a politician as I am a doctor." She looked to the person next to her. "I am also very concerned about the fact that children are in this meeting. I do not see how they could have anything to contribute, especially considering the outlandish tale told by Mr. Giles."

"I am Dr. Margaret Walsh. I teach psychology at Sunnydale University. I don't believe in witchcraft or magic or alternate dimensions." The middle aged woman had been inspecting every other person at the table. From what she could see the people believed the stories they told. A large number of them clearly knew of the existence of HSTs which may or may not be a problem for the long term goals of the Initiative. The outcome would be seen later on.

"Oh dear, I guess I'll have to tell them about what you really do for work," the mayor said shaking his head. "She's part of a government agency called the Initiative. They're a bunch of governmental demon hunters with all sorts of fancy gadgets." He put up his palms in a warding motion at the glares the two military people gave him. "Well now, you two seem a little put out now, but this isn't the time for secrets, now is it? We're all in the same boat and keeping secrets is just going to keep us rocking and rocking until we fall in. They know about the existence of demons and have a secret base under the University."

"Oh, well that explains why the army depot was so heavily stocked," Xander mused. When the military people looked at him in that angry/curious way, he shrugged.

"We sort of had to borrow a bazooka to take out the Judge in the mall," Buffy said sheepishly. When she noticed the nasty looks she was getting from some of the adults, she quickly explained. "Oh, he wasn't a real judge, not even a person, it's just that they said no man-made weapons could hurt him and so Xander thought about how that was when they thought the sword was the most dangerous weapon, so we sorta borrowed a bazooka and blew him up in the mall."

"Oh, when we get power we can watch her in action, I've got it all on tape," the mayor said with a smile. When the Scoobies looked at him with confusion and surprise, he simply smiled and shrugged. "Security cameras. What can I say? I like good work."

"Oh, we thought that was just a gas explosion," mused the next man at the table. He was bald, late middle aged, with a rotund body stuffed into a policeman's uniform. It looked uncomfortable to say the least. He was also stuffing his face with the free doughnuts like the stereotypical pig he was. "Oh, um Hi, Jack Warner, Chief of police. So are you telling me that most of those bleeding incidents were actually vampires? Damn, we were sure they were gangs on PCP armed with barbeque forks. It makes so much more sense now." Blissfully ignoring the nasty glares of those in the know, the chief of police went back to stuffing his face with doughnuts.

"Hi, Daniel Osborne. Call me Oz. I'm a werewolf," the redhead next to the chief said with a small smile and a nod to those in disbelief. Maggie Walsh looked at him like he was her next test subject. It was more than a little disturbing really.

"You forgot to tell about the Dingoes and me, silly," Willow said grinning at her boyfriend. "I'm Willow Rosenberg, I go to Sunnydale High and I'm good at computers and research. Oh, and I'm dating Oz."

"Research?" asked Dr. Chung incredulously.

"Oh about the demons and vampires and stuff that Buffy fights," Willow said as if it explained everything. Dr. Chung clearly did not believe her.

"I'm Buffy Summers and I'm the Vampire Slayer. Like Giles said, I'm the chosen one yada, yada, yada," Buffy said. She was a little angry about everything, even considering what happened less than two days before. "A little while ago, that thing," she pointed at the moaning and confused Drusilla, "Killed the second Slayer Kendra. She was a good friend. She also almost killed Willow, Oz and Xander. If it were up to me right now she would be dust. And if she steps out of line, I'm staking her, no matter what anyone else has to say about it." Buffy sat down; her arms crossed glaring at the trio of vampires. Angel couldn't meet her eyes. Spike looked like he was about to jump over the table and strangle her.

"Buffy, you really need to pull back the hostility a little," Wilkins said in that same chiding tone. "We might not all be friends here, but are all in the same situation." Buffy chose to say nothing, which was much better than what she almost did say.

"Xander Harris, I help out Buffy with stuff," Xander said simply.

"What kind of stuff?" Maggie Walsh raised an eyebrow at the young man.

"Whatever she needs."

"I am Rupert Giles, originally of England. I am a member of the Watcher's Council, a group of people dedicated to supporting the Slayer," Rupert explained in his falsely calm voice. His eyes never left Angel. "I am currently working as the school librarian at Sunnydale High School. As for an interesting tidbit about me, I was tortured yesterday within an inch of my life by Angelus, should anyone wonder why I am in this wheelchair. Truth be told, I should still be in bed, but it seems that my expertise was needed. I am also rather highly medicated on medical narcotics to reduce the pain. It occasionally works." Angel looked like he was about to dust himself. Giles would never let him forget what the demon had done.

"I am Joyce Summers, Buffy's mother and I run the local Gallery and Museum," Joyce said, lightening the mood. "And if any one of you decides to hurt my daughter, I'll beat you to death with a shovel. Oh, are those pecans?" Buffy was rather proud of her mother.

"I'm Jonathan Levinson," the small boy said hesitantly from his place next to the mayor. "I don't really know why I'm here. Oh, and I like Star Trek."

"It's so good to have that out of the way, now we have some other problems to deal with," the mayor explained in his usual fashion. "Since these two decided to destroy the world, we're now on the other side of the portal."

"How big is the area that came along with us?" Joyce Summers was a little concerned. "What kind of area are we talking about?"

"I think I can answer that," Colonel Hennessey said. He lumbered out of his chair to the map of the city hung on the wall. "The entire town is intact from the main street to the train station. The Port and beach area and a significant portion of the ocean have formed a large salt lake on our east side. And it seems the town has been turned 180 degrees we now have cliffs on what used to be our east and west sides. It seems we have been deposited in a large wide valley with mountains on either side. The Sunnydale Zoo and both colleges are intact and the plains continue into the hills with the vineyards and citrus groves. We have lost a large portion of the agricultural fields but we have the Mable Horse Farm, Shallow Acres Farm and The Rabbit Hutch still inside out boarders. Although we still have the Sunnydale Hydroelectric Power Plant, we currently do not have any power nor water."

"Mr. Mayor?" All eyes turned to see Dr. Chung raising a pen for attention. "This is a good point to mention that our first problem would be electricity and water. The hospital can only run for a couple of days at full capacity on emergency power and it has already been almost a day and a half. All most all emergency services will have to cease when that happens. If this continues on I am going to shut down power to everything but life support and preserving medical supplies. There is also no running water in the city at this time."

"The Initiative has a generator," Maggie Walsh said, ignoring the nasty look from her superior. "However, we might not have enough fuel for more than a month if we are to power the entire town. We need to somehow find a way to generate more before that runs out."

"See, bumping heads together, brain storming! This is what I like to see," the mayor said, slapping his hand on the desk. "Any suggestions?" People thought for a while before a hand was quietly raised next to the Mayor. "Jonathan, yes."

"Um, what about the hydroelectric dam?" the smallish boy said timidly.

"Hydro power is certainly still a possibility, but where would we get the water from," mused Professor Walsh. "The dam still exists, but it currently has no source of water. The dam is facing away from the lake it used to use for power."

"Well, yesterday, I was out by the highway, or what used to be the highway and looked over the edge. I think we're living on a natural dam by the amount of water flowing down the valley. It's pooling north of us and we might be able to use it for generating power like we used to." Everyone looked at him confused. This was Jonathan? He shrugged. "We have the existing waterworks and sewers, shouldn't we be able to manipulate this if we have locks and such?" He looked up in surprise when the mayor clapped him on the back.

"Now that's thinking outside the box! Good, somebody jot that down," Wilkins said with a smile. "Next problem?"

"Food," said Joyce. "Most people don't buy enough for more than a week. In pantries and root cellars we might extend that to a while longer, but we're going to need food." Dr. Walsh gave Colonel Hennessey a look and after a moment he sighed.

"From what farms are remaining, we have sources for milk, beef, pork, lamb and mutton chickens and eggs, as well as emus, turkeys, game birds and rabbit. We have two organic farms that only grow vegetables and raise horses. The Emus are not actually from one of the remaining farms, but are a pasture and outbuildings from a farm that was lost. As for other resources, we have recon teams out with humvees as we speak. They are due back in a couple of hours and we should know more about what kind of resources we have available in the area." It almost looked like caused him physical pain to tell even a little of what might be classified. "We are in a rocky area, but we can see trees and other life around us. We are clearly sub-alpine judging from remaining vegetation. It doesn't seem like we are in Hell at all."

"Actually, I have been thinking about that," Giles said. "Perhaps 'Hell' portion was added later to the Acathla myth, perhaps it was simply intended to destroy the world."

"Why's that?"

"Assume for a second that Acathla had actually swallowed the world and transported it to this one. It would have caused a distortion in the gravitational and magnetic fields of both planets, potentially causing both to meld into one. It would assuredly be the destruction to the worlds as we know it. The energy released would be plenty enough to make both planets uninhabitable. It would insure the destruction of the worlds and the short period of time life would exist would certainly feel like hell."

"It is only a hypothesis, but perhaps some of the other professors at the University could explore it further," Giles finished, clearly tired.

"So, food is a priority," the Mayor said. "At least we've still got the vineyards!"

"Actually, one of my colleagues at the university is an anthropologist specializing in terrace farming in various parts of the world," suggested Walsh. "Since we are in the mountains, this could potentially be the best option."

"Next up is the refugee situation," The mayor continues with a nod to Finch as he rushed in the door.

"Well, with all the ships in port, we have several thousand more people," his deputy replied. "And it is causing problems. Three of the ships are giant cruise ships from Taiwan, Tokyo and Norway. Each ship can hold a lot of people and we are not sure of the exact numbers at this time. These are people who aren't even US citizens and we don't have the extra housing. They are getting restless in the cabins and want to come into town. Many of these people only speak a little English, if any, and are angry about everything, and primarily they are white collar workers because few other people have the money to travel on these ships. There are at least four school groups from Japan on the Tokyo ship. They think we are ignoring them. Another problem is that about one third of the Norwegian cruise passengers are elderly, although this is more easily dealt with than some of our other problems." He flipped to the next page on his note pad. "The merchant ships are a better situation. We now have more resources than we knew. There is one refrigerator ship from the People's Republic of China which is stocked full because they were going up the coast to LA and San Francisco. We can use the ship to store any food we produce. The problem is that only the Capitan and first mate speak English and they refuse to let us on board. They could potentially be violent if we push the subject. This is not my area of expertise, so I'm not sure where to proceed on that front."

"The next ship is also from the PRC, but it seems to have been filled with illegal aliens. None of these refugees speak English except the first mate. They are being detained by our local INS office and they are trying to process them. We have one oil tanker from Venezuela which increases our supplies greatly. They speak Spanish mostly, but since we have many Spanish speakers, it isn't a big problem. They are actually very eager to assist and want to know where they are best placed. We have three ships from Japan with electronics like VCRs, CD players, computers and such. They have a large collection of the new DVD systems as well as the DVDs and game systems. We can use them to help run our projects, but we don't need to worry about them for now. The sailors want to get off the ship and are willing to pay for hotel accommodations.

"The next five ships are from India. The first four carry food and cotton clothing. The last one is a smaller cruise ship with about 450 people on board. Almost all of the Indians speak English and most are in their mid twenties to retirement age. They are mostly willing to help because they feel they need to do something. One Norwegian ship has a ballast of aquavit, a highly alcoholic drink and a boatload of dried cod. Two Russian ships: one with another payload of illegal aliens, INS is detaining them as well; the other has barrels of vodka that were supposed to be bottled here in the states. It's enough to get the entire city of Sunnydale drunk for a year. The next ship is American and has construction supplies from Washington state. We have two small shipping vessels from South Africa and Madagascar. Both carry various import goods, most of which are luxury goods.

"The next ships are not from the industrial dock, but the upscale section. These are rich yachts and sailboats. They are owned by rich people who are used to being the center of attention to all the time. We have three movie stars, two rich industrialists, four politicians, two rock bands, one country band, and fifty-four models who arrived for a photo shoot. Frankly I would rather take Buffy's job than deal with these people ever again." Several people stifled laughs at this. "They are calling for everything from the latest drugs and the most expensive foods (which we don't have, I might add) to actually demanding call girls be brought to the boats. We also have one more yacht of Japanese tourists, two families and their friends, but they have been quite pleasant to deal with. Some of them can speak English and seem quite willing to help out. They have mentioned some experience in construction and martial arts."

"And that is just the port, not including the problems with the people just passing through on the bus. The hotels are nearly filled with people who came up for the weekend. They have finally stopped asking to "just go home" as they put it. They seem to be finally accepting the fact that they aren't going anywhere.

"Between the building of the new hydroelectric dam and the construction that was already taking place, we don't have enough workers to build the needed housing and we don't have the land to build inside the city limits because we need the land for food production. Frankly I don't know where to go from here.

"Couldn't we just build on the natural plateaus here?" Joyce suggested. "They are flat enough and we need the space. There are plenty of trees blown down that we could use for new lumber."

"We could, but we still don't know much about how we are situated geologically," Maggie Walsh explained. "That's why we need scientists to test the area. What is the situation with the airport?"

"That's a good plan, but a harder situation," said the deputy. "There's a company that made its living off taking pictures of people's houses from the air and then trying to sell the pictures to the home owners. I want them to start surveying the area, but they refuse to help."

"I can take care of the problem if the airport is made part of the Base," Colonel suggested. "I have some damn good airmen who are just waiting to get back up in the air. We need those maps badly." He turned to Walsh, "Would it be possible for the same maps to be used by the geologists?"

"I don't know, I'll have to ask my colleagues," she said honestly.

"There is something else we have to deal with," Angel spoke up. Faces turned to him from their conversations. "People are going to want to go back to Earth. What about Acathla? Could we just activate him again and send the town back to California?"

"There is no way to know if that would work," Giles said, attempting to keep his temper under control. "It could just as easily drag the rest of earth in, or could send us to a totally different world. There is no way of knowing what would happen and I suggest no one try it."

"I still don't understand how we got here in the first place," Dr. Amelia Chung said. "I still haven't seen any evidence of these demons or vamp-AGH!" She screamed as Spike vamped out and growled at her. Spike backed down when Buffy threatened to stake him.

"Is anyone going to eat that last doughnut?" the police chief asked. Everyone pondered if the stake would have been better used on him.

* * *

Lower in the valley, Dove Falconhand, Ranger and Sorceress and Chosen of Mystra, lead her band of adventurers (and the scumbag McGristle) up the rim of the valley. Several times she had spotted the Drow on the opposing rim, but she dared not go below because of the danger of rock slides. The disaster the previous day was still on their minds. Fret, their dwarven sage had a nasty head wound that she had just managed to patch up. He would need a healer soon. This was not the kind of wound many people survived. She had her definite doubts about this tracking. The bounty was tempting, but not tempting enough if he was not guilty. The Barghests had killed the Thistledowns; she would bet money on it, and she was not a betting woman. She almost wanted to meet this lone Drow.

Her elven archer friend had described the fight two nights ago twice and he was starting to agree with her. The Drow could have easily slaughtered him, but had not. This was not like anything anyone knew about the Drow. They were killers, plain and simple.

There he was again, running along the rim. She saw him several times each hour. Clearly he had seen the same problem with the valley floor and was keeping to the heights for protection. Unfortunately this made him clear as day in many occasions. There was no stupidity in this one; he knew he had been spotted. McGristle was heartily complaining that this had all been part of the Drow's magics, but everyone else in the party knew better. No single Drow could bring this much devastation. A mere two years before she had traveled along this valley and it had been a lush landscape of trees and wildlife. Now it was a wasteland. Some great shock wave had blown through, toppling everything in its path.

Her party had been lucky. They had been just around a corner when the blast hit, sending boulders flying like arrows through the valley. Had they been ten minutes closer behind the Drow, the entire party would have been killed. As it was they were all bruised and beaten, although the dwarf had the only serious wound. She was almost ready to call off the hunt, using the head wound as an excuse. But it would never work so long as the Drow was still in sight. McGristle, blinded by greed, was more than likely to attack them if they chose to "abandon the Thistledowns." "Choose to abandon his reward" was more like it. But there was another reason she kept going. There was trouble in this valley, and for once it had nothing to do with the mountain orcs under Graul's control. Every tree and a large number of boulders had been blown away, all in the same direction as if a massive blast of wind had struck them down. The only thing powerful enough that she had heard of were those forgotten mythals of Elven magic. Abandoned, untended, some mythals had become unstable. If a Mythal had detonated, it could be much worse than anticipated. If what Kellindil said was true, they could be facing a new Myth Drannor, an elven metropolis corrupted by fiends and worse. She knew of no elven mythal in the Nether mountains. A lost work of Netheril then. Regardless, the sound of the explosion was the loudest noise any of them had ever heard.

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	4. Chapter 4

"Sir, we're four miles out from Sunnydale along the western ridge of the mountain valley," Riley Finn glanced out at the devastation with a bewildered look. "Every tree is pointing away from the town. It's like they were all blown down. No signs of any animals so far. The local vegetation seems to be primarily evergreens with a few sparse sections of hardwoods. It's easy driving along the ridge since it has been cleared by whatever knocked the trees down. With exception of a few bumps it was like riding a dirt road sir."

"Good work Agent Finn, return to base for debriefing," he heard from the Colonel over the microphone. Finn heard the Colonel pause as someone spoke on the other end. "Bring a sample of the wood with you to test for compatibility to our needs."

"Understood sir, returning to base," Finn put the microphone back on the humvee and nodded to his partners Forest and Graham. "Pack it up and let's roll."

"With the HSTs I thought it was a strange world," Forest said, scanning the horizon with binoculars. "But this is too far out there."

"I'm sure they'll tell us the latest when we get back to base," Graham said with a grin as he tossed a stick in the back of the hummer. "This isn't the kind of thing you can just cover up with a few lame excuses."

"No, I guess not," Riley said with a matching grin. "It's back to being soldier boys after pretending to be grad students for so long. That excuse wouldn't have held more than a couple more years."

"Wait-" Forest motioned for them to stay quiet. "There's something out there." Together they waited, but whatever Forest had seen seemed to have vanished. "Damn, I know something's out there."

"Could be just stress," teased Graham lightly, but he was scanning the area as closely as the other two. Forest didn't just react over nothing. Unfortunately, Graham was the first to spot the creature as its arrow pierced his shoulder. It was a stone arrow.

"Base this is Team 3, we have a man down, requesting back up," Agent Finn called into the microphone as Forest dragged Graham behind the hummer. "We can't see the hostiles, but they are armed with arrows. One shot Graham in the shoulder. Does not appear to be life threatening."

"Can you get away?"

"No Colonel, we're under heavy fire! Arrow fire," he reported, ducking under a stray arrow. He peeked over the dashboard to see rough brutish humanoids climbing up the mountain side. A number of them were simply firing arrows at their location, not worried about targets. "Sir, they look like cavemen! Like those things you see in National Geographic!"

"What?"

"Cavemen!"

"I'm sending a team out now! Stay alive! That's an order Agent Finn!"

"I'll do my best sir!"

The people at the committee sagged as they heard about the team. The Colonel was barking orders to his people to send out another team, but it could be a while for help to arrive. Walsh was calling in commands for the Initiative to be on guard on her own radio. Everyone knew the team might not be alive by the time they arrived.

Buffy got up and grabbed her sword from her bag. "Buffy, what are you doing?" Her mother was alarmed by her action.

"Mom, this is what I do. It will take them some time to get there, I can be there faster," Buffy said, slipping her jacket back on her shoulders. "I can't be sitting around at a table talking about things when I could be helping."

"Buffy This is hardly the time for heroics," Giles said with a cautionary tone.

"I know Giles, but I have to go," She gave her stunned mother a peck on the cheek and ran out the door. Willow sighed, knowing she couldn't follow her friend until she healed.

"Does she really think she can outrun a humvee on broken terrain?" asked Maggie Walsh with a confused look.

"Oh, I know she can," Giles said with a slight smirk. "Now since we are taking a break I think I might take a nap and heal from being tortured last night."

Angel winced and sat in the corner contemplating his actions. Forgiveness would never be an option.

* * *

Graham, though wounded, was managing to help his partners. Every time one of them ran out of a clip, he replaced it, giving the other a full gun. This had happened several times so far. There must have been hundreds of these hulkish things clamoring up the mountain side. Riley and Forest's cover fire had killed the first few waves, but the creatures seemed fearless. Their dead fell in front of them, but they kept coming. And soon, Graham put the last clip into the third gun and passed it to Forest. "Last Clip."

* * *

Both Drizzt and Dove's party heard the sound of gunfire echo off the mountain sides. The strange rumbling Blam-Blam-Blam was a noise none of them had heard before and it disturbed them a little. Drizzt saw the Orcs attacking the three figures behind the carriage. The horse must have run off at the sound of the disturbance. Calling his panther friend, they leaped across a narrow spot in the gorge walls to the other side, charging towards the orcs.

Dove and company saw things a little differently from their perspective. The orcs outnumbered the humans many to one, but the humans with their strange weapons had managed to make a sizable pile of dead orcs on the mountain side. They seemed to have some kind of quick loading crossbow or bolt launcher. The items had to be magical weapons of some sort. But even magic weapons couldn't protect them for long. Arming themselves, even McGristle was charging to attack the orcs, though Dove suspected it was for the bounty on orc ears rather than an outpouring of goodwill towards strangers in peril.

So intent were both parties on the orcs, neither one noticed the other group as they converged on the weakened soldiers.

* * *

The soldiers themselves were surprised, but happy to see the strange people attack the cavemen and provide a welcome distraction as Forest ran out of bullets. Two were about Forest's height but there was on only about 4.5 feet high! One was a massive brute of a man who swung his axe with enough strength to cut a standing tree. His dog ripped the throat out of a caveman and leaped at a second.

Riley watched as help came from the other side as well. A short black man with long white hair stabbed a caveman through the gut, dropping him to the ground. His panther raked several with it's huge claws, dropping more. With casualties like these any human army would have broken by now and ran, but the cavemen kept coming. The three soldiers glanced at each other a long moment before Forest and Riley grabbed two abandoned axes and joined the melee.

* * *

Buffy ran like she had run few other times in her life. Her spidy sense was going off, so she knew something was wrong, but it might have just been a remnant of the creepiness of the last couple of days. The path Team 3 had taken was luckily the closest to the city hall. The trees and buildings around her seemed to blend into the background as she rushed out of the town and down along the ridge. She made some better time by jumping off a small cliff that a Humvee would have had to drive around. A twenty foot drop and she kept on running with her stake in one hand and her sheathed sword in the other. Five times in quick succession she leaped from boulder to boulder gaining time. Soon she could see the hummer perched on the ridge. The cavemen were clamoring over the top wielding axes, clubs and a few massive swords. They were not doing well against the three armed soldiers, but they had the advantage of numbers.

Buffy watched as the newcomers assisted the soldiers. If it had been a normal week, her heart would have leaped at the lucky timing. Unfortunately, it had not been a normal week. Buffy just wanted to hurt something and she was afraid it was going to be someone she cared about. She had to escape the confines of the town and her mother's overprotective arms. She was the Slayer and it called out for her. Now, the Slayer was in control of Buffy and not the other way around.

She leaped, literally, into battle, knocking an orc to the ground by landing on it's head. The instant she landed, her sword flew from its scabbard and cut the throat of another. Using a two handed style, she slashed with her sword and stabbed with her stake. They weren't vampires, but they died well enough with a stake to the heart or head. She spun around, hamstringing one while stabbing the kidneys of another. Down and down the orcs fell, piling up like so much cordwood.

* * *

Who was this mad woman? Skilled as she was, she wasn't even wearing armor! This blond little thing seemed to have strength and speed far beyond her size. Her grace was more than normal for a human by far; elves were not as graceful. Nor were they as mercilessly deadly.

The adventures would glance at her every so often and were amazed at her power. She had been hit by three arrows and it did not seem to have even slowed her. When a cross parry broke her sword, the woman simply pulled back her fist and punched the orc in the face, knocking it and several others backwards down the mountain side. Now she stabbed at them with only a dagger and her bare hands. No! That wasn't even a dagger, but merely a pointed stick!

In the midst of battle they had not missed the arrival of their quarry either, but were not in a hurry to apprehend him with the attacking orcs. So long as he fought along side them Dove's people would not attack the Drow, but as soon as his treachery was revealed, they would be forced to strike him down.

* * *

Buffy was angry. And not just a little angry. She was furious. The pain in her back only fueled her rage and strength, granting her a frenzy she had never felt before. And it felt good.

Breaking the sword had troubled her little, but Mr. Pointy was so bloodied that it was starting to slip in her grasp. Soon it would be fists alone, but that had never stopped her before. As cavemen demons went, these things were fairly weak. Sunnydale had seen it's fair share of similar creatures, but they had all been able to pack a punch. These fell unconscious with one punch.

And yeah, it felt good. Real good.

* * *

Drizzt was disturbed by the blond woman, but for a very different reason. He could sense the Hunter in her. That same rage which had sustained him for ten years in the wilds of the Underdark was reflected in her face and it terrified him.

Was she a kindred spirit? Or was she too lost to the demon inside?

* * *

Riley Finn was happy when the cavemen started to balk, but something nagged him. If they had suffered such losses, why were they only backing off now? His question was quickly interrupted by the sudden falling of boulders on the cavemen in front of them. Glancing over his shoulder he saw what had given the cavemen pause: massive bald humanoids with skin the color of the local stone and the ability to toss boulders like he would skip a rock. Diving down, he knocked Forest to the ground as a boulder crashed through the spot their heads had been a moment before.

* * *

"Stone Giants!" Fret called out in warning. Dove turned to the Dwarven Sage and glanced up at the giants.

"Good Goddess! If it rains it pours!" swore Dove, shooting an arrow at the closest, putting out an eye.

"It could be worse," called out Kellindil with a smirk as he shot two arrows at once. "They could have helped the orcs!"

"It matters little if they worked together if we're dead," remarked Gabriel as he pulled his sword out of an orc's eye socket.

* * *

The Orcs were finally in full retreat, but the stone giants had them pinned down behind the hummer. Drizzt sent Guenhwyvar out to distract the giants before flanking them himself. He silently thanked fate that the carriage had not been hit. For all their strength, the giants had little control over their aim. But luck was on both sides of the battle and just as the dark elf ran out from cover, a boulder hit his leg, folding it under him even with the adamantine chain protecting his thigh. To think he would endure all this hardship only to die helping others who hated his kind.

* * *

Buffy saw the giants and grinned like a feral animal. Now these were demons! She silently cursed herself for breaking the sword, but stuffed Mr. Pointy into her jacket and snatched an abandoned axe on one hand. Racing towards the giants, she grabbed the cable for the winch off the front of the hummer, slapping the release with the blade of the axe. Bouncing off three boulders in quick succession, she drove the axe blade deep into the thigh of a giant, using the handle as a spring board to propel her up to its neck. Keeping her momentum, she swung down over its shoulder and up on to the other side, dragging the cable behind her. Leaping back up onto its other shoulder she hooked the cable together and pulled on the line extending back to the hummer. Using her Slayer enhanced strength, she pulled on the main cable, tightening it into a wire garrote around the giant's neck.

The giant struggled in vain to pull the wire away from it's neck, but its thrashing only dug the cable deeper into it's flesh. In a few short moments the giant was dead and toppled to the ground.

* * *

"That mad woman just took down a giant!" Fret, the dwarven sage, had never seen anything like it. "With a rope! Just a rope!"

"Less talking Fret, more killing," grinned Kellindil as he blinded another giant with his split arrow technique. "Why don't you stop hiding and get a few blows in?"

"I'm a sage, Elf, not some Gutbuster," the little man growled. "This brawling has its purpose, but I do not enjoy it like you or Gabriel."

"Come now! Are you both going to gab all day or are you going to help us out?" Gabriel called as he ham stringed a giant, causing it to fall to one knee.

* * *

Riley crawled over to where the black swordsman lay clutching his leg. It was broken, no doubt about that. Carefully, he put a hand on the man's arm, Riley caught his attention. There was a look of fear on the man's face. Agent Riley Finn was confused

"Forest, get the first aid kit and patch up Graham. Then come over and help me set his leg," Forest nodded, slipping back into the soldier role. Riley turned back to Drizzt. "Can you feel your legs?" It was clear the man didn't understand him. And "man" might have been pushing it. He didn't look even as old as most high school kids, let alone be old enough to be called "man." He tried again, using hand signals this time. "I'm going to help you."

Drizzt didn't understand a word the human said to him. It was not in the common tongue, nor any other language the dark elf spoke. The strange person kept saying something and motioning to his broken leg. This went on for a while as the big dark skinned human bandaged up the smaller like skinned one.

"Are you bleeding?" Riley knew it was useless to ask, even when he made dribbly motions with his fingers.

For some reason the human was suggesting mind flayers were involved by the waggling of his fingers under his chin. Drizzt nodded, hoping that the human was asking if he had ever seen any. It would certainly explain the unnatural courage of the orcish hoard. To his surprise the human scrunched up his brow and went for his knife.

"Forest! This guy's bleeding, but he's trying to get away," Riley called back to his friends. "Hold him down while I cut the clothing away from the wound." Forest was getting up but froze as he looked beyond his CO. "What is it?"

Forest pointed to the sight of a petite blond girl strangling a giant with only a metal cable. All three soldiers looked on in horror as the giant toppled over, the blond girl simply leaping on to the next giant, using her stick as a hand hold to climb up to the neck.

"Holy Hell"

"Yeah, you said it Forest."

* * *

Buffy killed the first one easily. Timing her leap perfectly, she drove Mr. Pointy deep into the second giant's bicep, causing a howl of pain. The gray skinned creature swatted at her like she was a fly, but it didn't manage to rid itself of her. Using both hands, she would leap and then drive the stake a little higher on the arm. The giant flailed trying to get her off, but one hand was not enough to pry off the Slayer. When she got up to the shoulder, she ran towards the neck and kicked the jugular as hard as she could. The giant doubled over in surprise, coughing at the sudden jolt.

She heard a cry off to the side and noticed a human dressed as a knight tossing her an orc axe. Catching it one handed, she spun it around and sunk the ragged blade deep into the throat, spurting blood.

Well crap. This was another outfit she wouldn't be able to wear to the Bronze.

* * *

At this point, the giants, being much smarter than the orcs, started running away. Of the five that had been downed, four were dead, fifth being the one Gabriel had cut at the ankles. The female giant would not be moving anywhere and judging by the deep cut to her ankle would soon be dead for there was no escape. She looked at her killers with horror. How could such small creatures have injured her kin so? What would they do to her children? The squirming bundle on her back reminded of how they had only wanted to scare the orcs away. They hadn't meant to get killed. After the blast had killed most of their herds, the giants had chased everything away in an attempt to keep the food for themselves.

Perhaps it was good in the end. With the loss of the five of them, perhaps the clan could survive the loss of the herds. Less mouths to feed meant more of the remaining to go around.

* * *

The rage was lessening with every breath she took. All the rage was expended in the battle. To say she was winded was a rather dire understatement. She wanted to sleep for days.

Buffy used a club as a cane, keeping herself upright as she limped back to the hummer. She hadn't used all of her strength, but it was nearly so. One of the soldiers had been hit with an arrow. The black swords man with the white hair was clutching his leg as his panther growled at one of the soldiers. It looked like the soldier boy was trying to help, but the overly protecting cat didn't understand the situation. Buffy spotted the huge red haired man charge up the hill with his axe at the ready. He wasn't looking at an orc or a giant: he was looking directly at the injured man with the panther.

Buffy didn't have to think. The club flew out of her hand, spinning end over end, right into the back of the man's head. He fell to the ground out cold.

And Buffy suddenly realized she was much more tired than she thought.

* * *

Dove caught the blond madwoman just after the club connected with McGristle's head. She gave Dove a smile of thanks. Gabriel moved over to help carry the blond madwoman up to the carriage. Fret and Kellindil followed close behind. There was no doubt in her mind that the Drow was not like the majority of his people, the battle had made that clear. He had no reason to assist strangers, but he had.

As they got closer, the sandy haired human was trying to perform some first aid on the dark elf, but the panther refused to let him nearby. The Drow was clearly in great pain, but believed that the human was going to kill him. The human was truly concerned about the elf's health and was clearly confused why he was refusing treatment. It was almost as if the man had never heard of a Drow before.

"Drow, he is trying to heal you," Dove said in the common tongue. "He was going to cut the clothes away to look at the wound."

Drizzt was confused at how the people who had hunted him for so many weeks were not actually killing him. McGristle had tried, but the club was fortunate. If that axe had landed hands distance closer, he would have bled to death in seconds. As it was, the axe had landed directly between his legs, bouncing and scratching the side of the strange carriage.

It was about then that the reserves and Medical Corps arrived, too late for the fight, but just in time to save the day.

Back in Sunnydale they had heard every shout, every close call and the constant putt-putt-putt of the guns. They listened as the last clip was plugged into the rifle and shot off. Almost everyone in the room had been surprised to discover that Buffy, had indeed out ran the medical transport and military back up and arrived in time. Staying inside the hummer, Graham had narrated the entire battle, the blood still flowing around the arrow wound, but doing relatively well all things considered. When the people back home had heard "Civilians down" they were glad the Colonel had sent out more than just one medical truck. Just in case Team 3's hummer was damaged in the fight, he had also sent a flatbed truck with a tow cable. There weren't any replacements coming in from wherever now, and what he had was what he had.

The problem was Colonel Hennessey was a military man to the core. And he was not used to being at the top of the command line. He was supposed to have a CO to report to on a regular basis. He never wanted to go beyond his current position as commander of the Sunnydale Base, but forces had conspired against him to shove him into the position to top military commander in the area. There was supposed to be a chain of command and he was supposed to be in the middle. The situation was damn wrong, but there was not a thing he could do about it.

Everyone was amazed to discover humans lived on the world. Or at least they looked like humans. The cavemen were a surprise, but the mayor wanted to see a few, so asked them to bring back any live ones they could find. Giles slept soundlessly in his drug induced stupor and so had little input, although he would have wanted some information on what his slayer was fighting.

In the conference room Dr. Chung had met up with the medical transport ready for action and had her best emergency doctors and nurses on standby. Amelia Chung had done field surgery for three years when she was in Les Medicines Sans Frontiers just after medical school. Stationed in a war torn parts of southeast Asia and later in the Congo, she had learned some of the best techniques for this kind of wound. When she was in Papua New Guinea she had worked high in the mountains where primitive wounds were very common place. There were places in that region no outsider could go because of the constantly warring tribes, but she had lived for a year on the outskirts in a high elevation area and saw the kind of wounds primitive weapons could create. And people always forgot that primitive didn't mean not dangerous. Spears and arrows were weapons and could kill as easily as a gun or a knife. It didn't matter if the blades were made out of stone or sharpened wood, dangerous was dangerous. Unlike many conventional weapons, primitive weapons took special care and had different needs. She was sure that the army doctors would simply treat the wounds like any other, ignoring the additional problems of poisons, strange infections and foreign particles and other things that had just been forgotten by most of modern medicine. It wasn't that she didn't trust the military, but well, actually she didn't trust the military, but in this case she had expertise that fit.

She still didn't believe in magic or demons or witchcraft or vampires, but she knew that many cultures did have similar beliefs. It had been sometimes difficult to practice medicine in some areas because of this. To some modern medicine had been good magic, to others it had been bad magic. Regardless she was stuck in a town transported to another world where a large number of intelligent people believed in magic. That Mr. Giles, though he was still a patient and some of his ramblings could have been attributed to his medication, was a highly intelligent man with some interesting view points. He also seemed fluent in Latin, Greek and several other languages. She assumed it was due to his British upbringing. He was also a very attractive man.

But she tried to suppress the urges for someone she would have to work with. She had needed to do the same to plenty of people in the past when she was breaking through the glass ceiling to become the hospital administrator. It had been a long tough fight and she had given up many things she would have liked: friends, a husband, children, time off etc… It was still a man's world in many respects and for a woman in her late 30s to have attained so much, she had sacrificed what she needed to meet her goal. Now that she was at the top, perhaps she could change the problem. Although some of her subordinates would still say she was incompetent if she decided to have a child. Dr. Mack Gargen was a scorpion of a man who was just waiting to sting her.

She was broken out of her reverie by the driver calling out. They had arrived. The trucks ceased their bouncing over the uneven terrain and rolled to a stop. Jumping out of the truck she was amazed at how flat the top of the ridge had been. Wide enough for two trucks to drive side by side, it was almost begging for a road to be built on it. Unfortunately it was the perfect place for a battleground.

She was horrified by the mass of bloody bodies on the ground. The cavemen, or australopithecines she identified, were piled in a mass of bodies killed by bullets, swords, axes and sometimes just blunt force to the head. Shaking her head, she rushed over with the other doctors to assist the soldiers.

"Doctor! Graham has a shoulder wound from an arrow," the blond kid, Riley Finn reported when he spotted her. "We have several civilian casualties both from the cavemen and the giants. Two broken limbs, multiple arrow wounds, two head wounds and that's just what I saw from a brief inspection."

She could quickly tell it was worse than that. This was a massacre. No normal fighting group would press that hard and take those kind of casualties without breaking. Something was wrong here. She started barking orders like she had on battlefields 13 years ago.

"You and you, assist the strangers; you check after Buffy Summers; the rest of you, find survivors in the pile and treat them," she was at the top of her game. When the soldiers looked at her like she was crazy she put on her steeliest gaze that had helped her rise to the top. "Hippocratic Oath. We help anyone in need of medical treatment, period!"

"Yes Ma'am. What your orders," the two boys actually saluted her.

"Go get some stretchers and take care of the wounded," She said, smiling internally. They'd grow up to be good kids.

"Dr. Chung, there's another problem," the doctor turned to look at Buffy Summers sitting on a rock. The little blond girl should have been dead by the gross number of wounds on her body. She had three arrow in her shoulders, one dangerously close to an artery, friction burns on her hands as if she had shimmied down a rope at great speed; her face and all visible skin were covered in shallow cuts and bruises. She shouldn't even be able to sit up, much less talk with a normal tone. "That guy with the red hair and the nasty dog needs to be locked up. I knocked him out, but he's dangerous. Tried to kill the black guy after his leg was broken."

"Knocked him out?" It was difficult to believe, even after everything she had been told, that this little girl could knock anyone out.

"She threw a club at his head," Riley said as he carried a wounded caveman on a stretcher. "From twenty feet away."

It was still hard to believe. Chung moved to help the strangers with their wounds. The other group was clearly lead by the woman with the dark skin and white hair. It was a little unnatural a style, but it didn't appear that the woman had dyed it. Perhaps it was simply the local evolutionary mutation, like red hair in northern Europe. The woman understood the doctors were there to help, but she was clearly confused as to why Chung's people were caring for the cavemen. Chung could not have cared less. She was a doctor and she cared little about personal grievances. She motioned for the white haired woman to take off her top when a privacy screen had been put up. The woman had scars all over her back. Many were poorly healed. She could see where a scar here and a scar there had tightened the movement of the woman's shoulder. Chung washed and bandaged the new wounds and after a short while she was ready.

The Language barrier would be a problem until they could find a translator. The strangers spoke amongst themselves. It amused her to see them standing together. It was an odd sight with the medieval weapons and armor, but modern bandages and medical care. Chung attempted to invite them into the trucks, but it was difficult with only hand signals, but she thought they understood.

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	5. Chapter 5

"Dove, I think she is inviting us onto the horseless wagons," Fret said. His head was wrapped in bandages and he had been forced to lay down. The little dwarf was a little annoyed with the strange healers. "Perhaps they can give us an explanation of the explosion we witnessed. Or of their strange magics. There must be some sage who knows the common tongue."

"Yes, perhaps we should," suggested Kellindil, his shooting arm now fixed into a sling. "Though they seem strange, they have offered only that brute McGristle any harm and I am not arguing with that. Also, they seem to have already taken the Drow."

"We should at least investigate his intentions, Lady Falconhand," Gabriel said as he put his armor back on.

"Very well, we will go with them," Dove said. "We also need to know what these people are doing in the Silver Marches. My sister will not be pleased to find another unaligned power in the North."

"Her look reminds me some of those who come from the East. Beyond the Wastes and on to Kara-Tur," mused Fret, stroking his beard as he looked at Dr. Chung. "And the girl could have come from the Uthgardt barbarian tribes, she does seem to have their rage but not their black hair. Perhaps one of the Icewind Dale tribes."

"No, her mannerisms are quite wrong," Gabriel said flatly. "And they have a wariness of strangers and magics quite beyond anything I've seen elsewhere. An Uthgardt wouldn't be living with these people, she would have been killing them."

"I agree with Gabriel, she is a stranger to these lands, and not just to us," Dove stated simply, as she readjusted her leather armor to account for her wounds. "And she is some kind of Champion to have killed a giant with rope alone. We would have heard legends of her if she lived locally. Her strength is greater than that of ten men."

* * *

"Ma'am? We're trying to get close to the redhead, but the dog's not letting us close," Forest said. "It's a nasty piece of work. We didn't thing we should get bit."

"Good thinking," Dr. Chung said with a nod. Turning back to the truck she called out to one of the other doctors. "We have a tranque gun in that thing?" The military doctor nodded and tossed her the pistol. With an expert shot, she shot the dog in the neck. It whipped its head around and whimpered before falling over in a heap. Tossing the tranque gun back, she nodded to the dog. "Shouldn't be any problem now. Bring the dog too, but keep it sedated and quarantined."

"Ma'am? We've found 43 cavemen still alive, a number of which are in serious condition," this was Riley Finn, the team leader. "We have them field treated and loaded as you commanded."

"Good work Agent Finn," it paid to be polite, even if they were military.

"There's another problem," the blond kid pointed to the female giant. "She's still alive and she's got kids on her back in a sling. Ankles are cut, but she won't let anyone near her."

"Well, I'll be damned if I'm going to let anyone else die," Dr. Chung said with a grim look. "tranque her with everything we've got and load her on the flatbed. Don't hurt the babies."

"Professor Walsh will want to look at them too," Finn said, he grinned at Chung's questioning look. "She's been doing a lot of demon physiology work for the past year. This will be a different case."

Dr. Amelia Chung sighed deeply. The last thing she wanted was to save a life only to doom the creature to a life as a lab rat. Using tarps and cables, they bound the wounds on the Giant's legs. It would take a team of surgeons hours to mend the tendons and flesh. Physical Therapy could take years to allow the giant woman to walk again without a severe limp. When the giant was finally unconscious, they wrapped her up and pulled her, using tarps to lessen the friction on the ground and to limit further injury. She was loaded onto the flatbed and carefully strapped in so she would not fall off or injure herself if she awoke early.

"I don't know where we are going to put her," Dr. Chung said with a grimace.

"There is a mostly empty aircraft hanger at the airport," suggested Agent Finn with a shrug.

"As good a place as any. I wish it could be sterilized, but it's the best we can do at the moment," she paused a moment and sighed. "Call it in and have them clear the remainder out."

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Drizzt rode along with Team 3 on the way to Sunnydale. This was something he had never heard tales of from Menzoberranzan. Sticks that could kill by pointing, wagons with nothing pulling them. The powers of the surface world were far too many to describe.

They had been traveling for some time when Drizzt caught his first glance at the City of Sunnydale. The gorge was filled with a mass of stone with several layers of brightly striped rock that shown brilliantly in the early morning sun. almost to the top of the wall of stone, round holes were burrowed deep inside. Suddenly with a rumble, water burst forth from the holes. He watched, amazed at the sight. To his surprise, it became more spectacular as every so often a dark shape would fly out and burst into flames even when soaked in water. It must have been a celebration of some kind for the return of their troops.

Truly this must be one of the great wonders of the surface world.

* * *

Marl was a vampire, but as vampires go he was pretty good at taking care of himself. He had been turned back in the 30s in San Fran after a union strike went nasty. A few years later he heard about the hunting ground known as Sunnydale and set off. The rumors were true, Sunnydale was a great place for a meal. Anything you wanted: Italian, Chinese, or Mexican cuisine, anything; you just had to wandering around to find what you were looking for. But it had gotten harder after the Slayer moved in. But Marl was pretty smart. He soon realized that if you didn't turn anybody, spend time in graveyards or around the Bronze, it was easy to stay out of the way. The slayer rarely went into the sewers because the numbers were against her and there was no place to escape to. She'd learned her lesson after the first week. He cleaned up after himself by feeding the bodies to a family demons he knew and they tipped him off to any Slayer activity up above. Soon the docks were his hunting ground. It was funny how the slayer never showed up there.

But he hadn't been up in a couple of days, not since he heard Angelus was causing some real trouble. Taking a job as a Big Bad's flunky was like wearing a red shirt in Star Trek: liable to get you killed.

Unfortunately, he also had not gotten the message of the spatial transposition of the town of Sunnydale. He had pondered about the lower water levels in the sewers, but it hadn't worried him. But later on, he started to hear rumbling to what used to be the north. Unbeknownst to him, this rumble was caused by the water backing up in the various plugs that had been built by the various denizens of the sewer city. These plugs came in many shapes and forms from sacrificial shrines to sleeping areas to speakeasies where a few vamps could share a bit of O negative. If these plugs had not been there, the water would have simply risen slowly. With the plugs installed, the pressure of the water was simply increasing until the point when the plugs burst, flushing the blockage down the sewer. Unfortunately for Marl, he weighed much less than any blockage and was swept away, bouncing off walls until he was finally flushed out into the bright midmorning light. Marl, like so many of the other vampires that lived in the sewers, burst into flames that lasted until the body had fallen deep into the gorge. The other demons were not as spectacular, but the various species made the resulting river run many different colors, but still stained with blood.

* * *

Hours after the medical trucks had returned, the surgeons were still working. Most were not used to working such long hours and were complaining like a group of teenaged prima donnas. Dr. Chung was about ready to choke the lot of them, but she knew she needed the doctors. She had coordinated efforts with the other hospital, Sunnydale General Hospital and they had taken most of the cavemen. Several anthropologists had arrived with experience in Australopithecus bone structure to help out. Australopithecine was bound to be different from human anatomy, it was just a matter of how different.

She was more interested in the strangers and the giant woman. The strangers had been very upset when they realized the cavemen were being treated as well. Sometime when everyone understood each other, she would have to explain the reason behind the Hippocratic oath; people always seemed to misunderstand it. Hell, she had been arrested for helping the "enemy" three times when working with the NGOs, but it didn't stop her.

* * *

"These people are crazy," Gabriel said, speaking the words the rest of the party had thought but never voiced aloud. "They're treating the orcs that just attacked them!"

"Perhaps it is there way of atoning for killing so many," Suggested Fret. He was being cared for by one of the stranger's apprentice healers. Their healing rituals were strange. They had already had him stay flat on his back while they moved him through a tube, had him stand in front of a strange machine while wearing a very heavy apron and had even taken his clothes! The dwarven sage had protested, but Dove had convinced him to let them do what they had too. She did, however, make sure nothing of theirs went missing. "They certainly have plenty of strange rituals. All those rituals only to wrap my head back up with bandages and stab me in the arm with this water bag." He motioned to the IV stand next to him, pumping an anticoagulant into his veins to prevent a blood clot from the head wound.

"They are strange," agreed Kellindil. "They have such advanced magic, but do not know the common trade tongue? No city walls, no swordsmen to guard the town. It is bewildering to me."

"I do not believe it is magic," said Dove. And she should know. As one of the Seven Sisters, she was among the greatest spell-casters in Faerun, even if she was not as adept as her sisters. "These objects have no magical auras, and they have cast no spells. They treat with bandages that which a cleric should just wave away. If I didn't know better I would have guessed them to be Gondsmen. And this city was not here when I last passed through these mountains. I shall have to speak with my sisters."

"After the explosion, I would be surprised if your older sister was not on her way already," Kellindil said with a sly grin. He spoke of Alustriel, the leader of Silverymoon.

"I do not doubt that at all, friend."

* * *

The explosion created by the arrival of Sunnydale was not unnoticed in the lands beyond. Not far as the crow flies, the Silver Marches to the west were ablaze with theories of the mysterious explosion that had rocked the land. The shock wave had shattered every piece of glass and crystal in Sundabar and knocked down everything that weighed less than a full grown man. The sound was deafening even as far as Silverymoon and had raised a few important heads. Alustriel was disturbed, especially because she could sense no magic behind the sound. The source was a mystery and in a land threatened by King Obould Many-Arrows to the north and the Nether Mountains to the east and west, Silverymoon could not risk ignoring the disturbance.

She assembled a team of the best of the best and set out to discover the disturbance. She quickly realized the sound moved faster than she could fly or a horse could run. As they went east, the stories of the event took place earlier and earlier. Divining the logic of the problem, the disturbance originated near the eastern Nether Mountains. Several powerful orc tribes lived in this area and fiends were not uncommon in the southlands of Turnstone Pass. If the orcs had this kind of power it could mean their one eyed god was walking the land. If it was the Fiends, it could only mean the failure of the wards on Ascalhorn. In either case, Mystra would want to know.

Eyes from the east also focused on the disturbance. Several Zhent caravans had been lost and the keepers wanted their money. Leaders were quick to blame the explosion. But the closest danger was the attention of the orc warlord Graul.

Graul was not a major power in the region, but his orcs were feared by many. They had been his orcs that attacked Team 3, but not under his orders. They had been raiding farmsteads when two hundred orcs had just up and left. He had been forced to retreat when the expected forces had not arrived. When the survivors had filtered back, 27 out of 200, Graul became quite angry. He was not the smartest orc, nor even close, but he was one of the strongest. His rage was legendary and it rose at the news. Furious, he ordered the preparations to attack the humans with the boomsticks. Like I said, Graul was not know for his intellect.

* * *

"I don't understand it Giles," Buffy was pacing in front of her watcher with her hands up in the air. "I was just so angry. I acted. I never needed to think, I just kept going. It was like Buffy went for a nap, but the Slayer took control. But it wasn't natural, I've never been that strong. I killed a giant with a metal rope! Something is seriously wrong! I shouldn't be able to do that!"

His Slayer was clearly upset and he knew her better than think her description was an exaggeration. Something was wrong. Though it was true the longest lived slayers would become significantly more powerful as time went on, it was never this quickly. "I do not know what to say without research. Off the top of my head I cannot recall this ever happening before."

"It could be some sort of reaction with the place here," suggested Willow, now feeling much better. She turned to Giles. "I mean, Acathla didn't work before, so we don't know if it's happened, do we?" Giles shook his head.

"I'm afraid that without the resources of the Council we are on our own," Giles said as he readjusted his glasses. "It is disturbing. I'm going to have to ask you to keep your temper under control unless you are fighting demons or vampires. Other than that, what does the outside look like?"

"It's beautiful. It looks like pictures of the Rockies," She said with an amazed voice. "Dr. Chung made me sit down on the way back while she pulled the arrows out. I saw the most amazing thing. On the east side, well, it used to be the south, the east side the water finally went out like Jonathan said it would. But all those Vamps and demons that live in the sewers got washed out. It was like fireworks in the daytime. All those vamps burning up in the sunlight."

"I'm sure it was a pleasant sight," Giles said with an amused look. He was going to say more when Xander came into the hospital room.

"Okay, they were out of doughnuts, so I brought muffins," Xander proclaimed as he reached inside the paper bag. "Lemon poppy seed for Willow; blueberry for Buffy; raspberry pecan for Giles; and carrot for me."

"Carrot? Xander you don't seem like the type of person to eat carrot muffins," Giles said skeptically.

"I just like them, okay?" tossing the bag into a corner with the rest of their stuff, he threw himself into a chair. "So meetings all day. It feels like school without the homework."

"I fear the homework will soon start piling up," Giles said with a groan. "A bureaucracy will never escape paperwork. In fact I sometimes believe it exists to create paperwork."

"Oh crap!"

"What's up Buffster?"

"I totally forgot Snyder expelled me! Mom is absolutely gonna freak," Buffy bemoaned.

"Buffy, I am sure that when all this is sorted out, you will be reinstated," Giles said before taking a big bite of the muffin.

"I don't believe muffins were on your lists of allowable foods," the four turned to see a rather angry Dr. Amelia Chung standing in the door way. She turned her gaze on Buffy, who was sitting on the back of a chair with her feet in the seat. "And I don't recall allowing you to get out of bed either."

"Ids oaky, Em almob hed," Buffy explained through a mouthful of muffin.

"What?" Buffy swallowed.

"It's okay, I'm almost healed," she replied before stuffing herself once more.

"You couldn't possibly be healed," Chung said exasperated and confused. To explain, Buffy reached over her shoulder and ripped off the bandage to her arrow wounds. Buffy turned her back to the bewildered doctor and showed that the wounds had almost closed. The countless lesser wounds that should have left scars were gone with no blemishes. Her bruises had vanished as well, even the nasty black streak on her jaw. "This is impossible!"

"Nonsense, Dr. Chung. Buffy is the Slayer, an accelerated rate of healing is to be expected, even if this is a rather energized version," Giles said, quickly eating his muffin before it was confiscated.

"Yeah, I'd have been sore for a couple of weeks if this had happened back on earth," Buffy said with a sort of nonchalance. In fact all the Scooby Gang was perfectly at ease with the fact that their town had been transported to another world. Buffy had simply accepted that she might never see her father again, so it was good they had parted on good terms. "It's not the worst I've had."

"Yeah, being dead is probably as bad as it gets," Xander said with a smirk.

"And hey, if I can get past that, I can do any thing," Buffy said with a matching smirk. "I die, you bring me back, simple as pie."

"You died?"

"Only for a few minutes. This Big Bad Vamp called the Master drained me and then Drowned me in a pool," Buffy said between bites. "Xander here saved me with good old CPR."

"It seems so strange with everything that has happened, you four are perfectly fine," Amelia felt like ripping out her own hair in frustration. "Why aren't you like everyone else?"

"I think it's because so much bad stuff happens all the time that we are just kind of used to apocalypse, and woogyness," Willow said, now finished with her muffin. "I mean after you learn your online boyfriend is a demon robot, you kinda learn to accept just about anything at face value and deal quickly."

Chung mouthed the words "demon robot boyfriend" and decided it was time to get back to business. "Actually, I wanted to tell you that you three are certified as out patients as of today. Willow and Buffy need to have a parent sign for your release. Buffy, your mother is already down stairs."

"Oh, cuz that's kinda a problem," Willow said with a worried look. "see, my parents are at this psychologist convention in Seattle, so I'm pretty much an orphan now. They're meeting up with two brothers they knew from college."

"You're not alone. We've all lost someone back home," Chung said with a sigh, thinking of her parents in San Francisco.

"Unfortunately, my drunken parents are right at home, so I think I might just wander back before I'm missed. They like me to open the vodka bottles for them," Xander joked, but there was a tinge of sad truth and pain to his voice. "You three get better!"

Xander got up and left after sharing hugs with Buffy and Willow and a grasp of manly perseverance with Giles (it was really a hug as well, but you would not get either to admit the fact.) Outside was much as Dead-boy had suggested. While there wasn't looting or actually riots, there were confused people wandering around trying to figure out what was going on. When the flatbed had driven through town with a wounded giant on the back, people screamed, ran, and finally had to accept that Sunnydale wasn't in Kansas anymore (which of course it never was, but you get the picture). In a town of around 38,500 it wasn't huge by any terms from earth, but Xander had watched a lot of fantasy and science-fiction. Judging by most of those stories, 1000 people was a big town. 38,500 was a metropolis. Vaguely, he wondered what people were talking about back on earth, had Sunnydale even made the news? Or were there other problems that would cover up the disappearance of an entire town and a good part of the surrounding area? Xander hoped their friendly neighborhood hellmouth was getting some attention at least back home.

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	6. Chapter 6

Xander would have been pleased. Not only was the disappearance of Sunnydale on the news, it was nearly the top story around the globe. "Geologists Baffled!" read one headline. "Aliens? Demons?" said the National Enquirer with a picture of a Roswell gray pointing a laser gun at the town from orbit. Needless to say, people were concerned. Willow's parents even remembered they had a daughter back in old Sunnydale and might have even shed tears. Scientists were having difficulty explaining what could cause such a disturbance without leaving a debris trail. At first glance the egg shaped crater appeared to be from a glancing meteor strike, but that would have caused shock waves and sonic booms and sprayed debris for hundreds of miles. None of these had been witnessed. Other theories were that a subterranean cave system had collapsed. This had a little more credence, given that there was an extensive cave system underneath Sunnydale, but the edges of the crater were far to precise for it to have been a collapse. There were a number of flashing red explosions down in the bottom of the crater reported on the first day after the town vanished, but since the crater quickly filled with a brackish mix of sea and fresh water, no more exploration could take place. To the more mystical minded, with a bit of research a person would have realized that these explosions were actually Turok-Han that had until recently resided in the coastal hellmouth and exploded in the morning sunlight. The spike in deaths in the surrounding region would have told someone in the know that not all the Turok-Han had been destroyed.

There were memorials for the dead that would continue for several months. Each one was dedicated to the children, or the soldiers who had been stationed there, or the police, or whatever demographic put enough money to have a mournful ceremony. Already the governor of California had put in a bill for money to build a permanent memorial and the US Congress was talking of making the area into a national memorial, protecting the area from exploitation. Other countries were sending their well wishes to the people of California. All in all, it was an outpouring of support the US was not likely to see again and the president was not foolish enough to simply ignore using Sunnydale as his blaze of glory. It was a welcome diversion from the so-called sex scandal the opponents in the congress had put together and the President was determined to make it the primary note of his career. When house republicans voted down aid to the survivors and displaced of Sunnydale, he counterattacked blow for blow. Soon he had regained all the popularity in the poles he had started to loose. He sent his vice-president out to meet with the families. He had a mournful thanksgiving where he invited the displaced of Sunnydale to eat with him at the White House. Soon, his opponents were jumping on his bandwagon, helping him get what he wanted, just because he planted a little piece of Sunnydale in a bill here and a bill here. Voting against Sunnydale was going to poison the upcoming elections.

The Pentagon was not nearly as pleased by the results. The Initiative was suddenly cut short in California, but was still active in Cleveland and several other hellmouths around the world. With the unexplained disturbance and disappearance of the town of Sunnydale, the only explanation was an attack by an HST. Unfortunately all records were gone so there were no reports as to what had actually happened. Under the guise of scientists, the Initiative was making a full investigation into the matter.

In England, the Watcher's Council was elated by the news of Sunnydale's destruction. Quentin Travers had been upset for a while about the Sunnydale slayer. She refused to obey orders; she never moved to where she was needed; and her watcher let her get away with it all. Kendra had been a good slayer, raised right and trained and died as she should have. All in all, it was a good day for the Watcher's Council. The humanist faction had taken a blow with the loss of Rupert Giles. Quentin grinned at the thought of the conservatives' continuing power.

Rupert Giles had been trouble from the start. He was an embarrassment to his family, all longtime watchers and he had been a troublemaker as a child. His continuing use of black magic had been a clear sign of his instability and Travers had wanted to remove him from the Council, unfortunately Giles the elder had disagreed. So instead, Giles was sent into that damn cave, but he didn't die like he was supposed to. He just had to come out again and "prove himself worthy." Bah! He had been a thorn in Travers' side from the day he joined the Council. But in the end, he died like any other watcher. Joyfully, Quentin Travers drank to Rupert Giles' health.

Perhaps this Faith Lehane would be a more obedient slayer?

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	7. Chapter 7

Angel, Drusilla and Spike hated being stuffed together unable to go anywhere. Although there were plenty of windowless rooms in the City Hall, they were unable to move anywhere else because the usual highway of vampiric travel was currently filled with water. The former Angelus was quickly annoyed with Spike's ranting and Drusilla's constant bemoaning of his newly reinstated soul.

"Would you two please just shut it," he pleaded, not for the first time. They were still in the conference room with the venetian blinds pulled down low.

"Bloody hell! You think I like being here?" Spike had been drinking the supplied blood through a straw for hours and seemed a little more annoying than usual. Vaguely Angel recalled this happened a few times in the past when they were stuck in close quarters. Once was when they took a ship from England to China and they had to survive on a nip here and a nip there with Dru hypnotizing sailors into forgetting. That was just before Darla had left them to join the Master in Sunnydale and he had killed that girl in Romania.

"Well, I like being with you even less," he said like they were in the second grade.

"It's your bloody fault we're in this situation!" the blond vampire sneered at his grand sire.

"Look, the sun's going down in a few minutes and we can go back to the manor," Angel said for at least the fifth time. "It's big enough for us to get out of each other's hair."

"Spiky! My Angel! No fighting in the Family," Dru said as she moved between them. Her eyes were more buggy and mad than they usually were, making her look more disturbing than she usually did.

"No worries love, we'll be right as rain soon as I get us out of this damn room," Spike said licking away his blood mustache.

'A few more hours.' Angel thought to himself as he leaned back and rubbed his forehead. 'Just a few more hour.'

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

In the Initiative, Colonel Hennessey and Maggie Walsh were briefing the agents on the latest information on the area. It had been a tense couple of hours after Team 3 had returned from their scouting mission. Most of the other teams had seen much beyond devastation, but Team 19 had seen a group of what looked like mammoths off in the distance.

"You should all know that the government of Sunnydale is aware of the existence of HSTs and our own mission statement," Walsh said taking charge of the briefing as she usually did. "This is not a reason to tell everything we do down here. If someone asks if you are part of the Initiative you are to say no. If they know you are part of the military, you are to tell them you were in the reserves and Colonel Hennessey activated you in response to the situation."

The soldiers were good men. The best of the best really. They had been drawn from every branch of the military and several from domestic intelligence agencies. They could follow orders and would do their job better than anyone else they had.

"This morning at 0734 hours, Team 3 was reporting in when they were attacked by hostiles," Walsh continued. She clicked a button that flashed a slide up on the screen behind her. "This is an image of the hostile. Agent Finn noted, as do some of you, the resemblance to the extinct species australopithecines, thought to be a precursor to Homo sapiens sapien. It is not known if this is a case of convergent evolution or a direct connection to our own species. We currently have our specialists researching this as we speak." The button clicked again, showing six photographs of Drizzt, Dove Falconhand's party and McGristle. "These civilians assisted in the battle. Their intentions are unknown and they are currently being treated at Sunnydale Medical Center under close supervision. The final one is currently under restraint on the suggestion of Dr. Amelia Chung who was at the scene. The two males with the long hair and the short bald male are not human. The armored male, the white haired female and the red haired male are human according to the blood work done at the hospital. All three have blood types comparable to normal earth humans. Note the strange coloring of the woman. As far as we can tell her hair is naturally white and her skin naturally dark. It is hypothesized at this time by Dr. Amelia Chung that this is a local phenotype mutation." Another image flashed up, this time it was of a pretty, petite blond girl with a bright smile and a pink shirt. "This is Buffy Summers, a resident of Sunnydale. When the news of the attack arrived at the meeting, she ran to assist, ignoring the fact that we had already sent a support team. She covered four miles in thirteen point seven minutes." There was a general murmur of surprise. That was close to the world record. "Using a sword and a stake she attacked the hostiles, backing them off. When her sword broke she fought them barehanded, barely wounded."

There was widespread disbelief. Neither Hennessey nor Walsh were surprised. Walsh clicked to the next slide showing the giant woman strapped to the flatbed. "Later when the party was attacked by hostiles referred to as 'giants,' she strangled one with a steel cable from the winch attached to the humvee belonging to Team 3. This is difficult to believe, but Team 3 reported this and the evidence agrees with their testimony." Leaning forward she switched to a video recording of an HST huddling in a corner of a holding cell. It kept saying the word "slayer" over and over. "This is Hostile 3, apprehended on February 14th at 0042. This was the first instance of the term Slayer being used. At this point we believed it was referring to us as an adaptation of a myth of the HSTs. However, we now know Hostile 3 was referring not to us, but to Buffy Summers. Earlier today, she announced herself as the Slayer and Rupert Giles," she switched back to the slides, clicking to a picture of a middle-aged man with glasses, "a British national, explained that they is one of every generation who takes on the mantle of the slayer and has greater strength and skill in this regard. Our evidence supports this statement. She also seems to have greater healing capability as she has since been discharged today after receiving three arrow wounds to the back, countless smaller wounds and some significant damage which should have caused some internal bleeding."

"I want agents Hammond and O'Neil to act as high school students to keep an eye on her," The two agents in question nodded. At first glance they didn't look old enough to shave, much less join the military. "The rest of you are to patrol the outskirts of the transported sectors and report any activity. Troop transports are on standby and troops from the base will assist if any hostiles are sighted. This does not mean those attached to the cliff sides may slack off! We have already detected three native flying species of HSTs. No blindsides people!"

Colonel's words were gruff and serious. "The mayor has sent out notice that any reserve soldiers or retired officers are to report to the base tomorrow morning. We need everyone we can on this. When this happens there will be a team dedicated to commandeering any petroleum supplies. The Initiative generator is now attached to the Sunnydale Grid and will be supplying power until alternate sources can be acquired." He crossed his arms over his barrel chest. "Now go, Lieutenant Gardner has your assignments."

When the soldiers were gone, it was time for the private meeting between him and Walsh. Although he knew about the Initiative and had been fully briefed prior to his taking command of the Sunnydale base, Walsh was still technically in command of the Initiative itself and was only nominally under his control. Hennessey was not sure he could trust the civilian. She had a streak of arrogance that had turned many people off, but it had served her well to get her placed in command. Unfortunately he felt it would ultimately be her downfall. Although she was highly intelligent, Walsh was not the smartest person in Sunnydale and she was not the most suited for commanding soldiers, even if she might believe otherwise. Her tendency to underestimate people was also a problem he would have to address.

"Director Walsh, a word please," he said walking beside her to her office. "In private."

"Certainly." They walked into her private office and he lumbered over to the chair across from her desk.

"As you know, I have been fully briefed on the Initiative; and I am not directly over your command," he started with a huff as he sat down. "But as a military commander, I have some suggestions for the future." She nodded for him to go on. "The drug enhancement program needs to be tapered off and removed."

"Why would you say that?"

"It is becoming increasingly apparent that we could be involved in a war," he started to explain. "As we no longer have the capabilities or supplies to manufacture more of the drug, eventually we will run out of supply. I do not want to be fighting a war when our soldiers are going through withdrawal symptoms." His mind went back to Vietnam when drugs were almost as common as drinking water. It had been bad and lots of good men had died. He was not about to let someone repeat that mistake. "Therefore we taper it off until they are weaned." She did not look convinced. "This is a real problem. We can either take care of it now quietly or we run out and it becomes a public nightmare. At the moment we are lucky to have the good will of the people, but I've seen what happens when a population decides that a military force in their midst can't be trusted." Vietnam again. At times he was amazed he had stayed in the army. "I have an obligation to these soldiers and to the people I am sworn to protect, and with that obligation comes the understanding that the men and women who protect and serve this country, even if we are in some forgotten realm, will be in the best ability to do so."

"I understand your position, and I will take it under consideration," she said and Hennessey knew it was a signal for him to leave. Nodding, the older man stood and left the building. When the door was closed she sighed deeply. The Colonel was right. It was dangerous to keep the soldiers on the steroids when stocks would soon run out at full dosage. If she tapered it off, the substance could possibly last a year until the dependence would, should, have lost its bite.

Sighing again, she looked at the reports on the desk. She had the criminal and medical files of Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, Daniel Osborne, Rupert Giles and Alexander Harris and they showed little. There was the incident when the girl burned down her old high school and her subsequent incarceration in the mental institution, but other than that she looked like any other high school student. Her grades had suffered a little these past few months (with the exception of French which went abruptly from a D to an A at the beginning of November), but she was hardly a troublemaker the principle made her out to be. Rosenberg was actually teaching a computer class. She was a straight A student with no criminal history and only a slight increase in hospital visits since Buffy had arrived in Sunnydale. Most had been blown off as exercise accidents. Alexander, or Xander as he preferred, was Mr. Average. Average grades, average attendance, no criminal record and a few serious medical accidents. Oz was much like Rosenberg. Smart, they had both been recruited by a computer company. His band didn't seem to interfere with his grades and he had the usual medical visits until a few months ago when he seemed to have stopped going all together. He was one year older than the rest of the high school students. And then she had Rupert Giles. He came to Sunnydale and took a job at Sunnydale High as a librarian. His sole interaction with the SPD was this year when he had reported finding Jennifer Calendar dead in his apartment. She had no way of investigating his prior history. His medical history was clean until the night of the Shift, as people had started calling the night Sunnydale was sent to this other place.

She had other concerns beyond the Slayer and her friends. The first shipment of the new energy weapons had arrived just before the Shift and she was hesitant about assigning them. On one hand, they were new technology and not something easily replaceable. On the other hand, they were rechargeable, which would be important when the bullets finally ran out. Perhaps they could somehow trade with the locals for the materials, but that was a long term goal. As it was most of the machines needed to replicate the parts were not brought along with the rest of Sunnydale, especially the parts labeled "made in _____." She sighed deeply. Perhaps she needed an assistant. The Initiative would not remain much of a secret for long and there might be some talented students looking for a job. She made a note to look up inventors, engineers and machinists. They needed to replace the cars, the buses and oh hell, everything. There were plenty of resources for parts from the city dump to the various junk yards and compacting stations around Sunnydale. It was going to be a long night.

It was the night after the first full day of Sunnydale's existence. The populace was in a varied state of confusion, anger, rage and horror. They had a bit of excitement when the power went back on, but they had returned to anger when the mayor held the press conference on the television station. Police had ridden through the city with megaphones telling everyone to turn on the television to channel 6. The more level headed, admitted the decisions were for the better.

"Hello Sunnydale," said the Mayor. His usual jovial manner was subdued during the broadcast. Standing behind him were Colonel Hennessey, Dr. Amelia Chung and Angel. "As most of you know I am Richard Wilkins the Third, Mayor of Sunnydale. Here we find ourselves in the most difficult position of our lives as we and our town have been somehow transported to another world. This is difficult for many to understand, but you only have to look out your windows to see the mountains to know I speak the truth. With this in our minds, you can understand why I am declaring a State of Emergency."

"As of this moment, all military reserves from all branches of the military are currently activated and will report to the Sunnydale Military Base as 8:00am tomorrow. I am also activating all former military officers regardless of age who will then report to Colonel Hennessey at the same time and place. During this state of emergency, the police are coordinating with the military to keep us all safe. School will resume on Monday as normal for grades K-12 and both the University of California, Sunnydale and Sunnydale Metclath Private College. So enjoy the short vacation."

"However, we are actually in a good situation all things considered. We now have electricity back on, thanks to the local military base and we have fresh water being pumped in from the lake to our north thanks to the Sunnydale Fire Department. Our next problem is food."

"Modern American society was not designed to survive this kind of tragedy, and we have our supermarkets stocked full for now, but we do not know what the future holds. As it is, we are extremely lucky to have retained the hills with our Citrus orchards and vineyards. There are several farms with animals that have survived in the plains.

"We are currently seeking people with experience in farming, agriculture, and related fields to report to the Center for Agricultural Studies at the Winslow building at the University of California campus. We are collecting samples of plants to add to a seed bank. Also anyone with experience in Animal Husbandry and breeding should report to the Sunnydale Zoo where we are coordinating the plans for animal farming.

"Conservation is the word of the hour. Save everything you have that will not spoil. Save seeds, root stalks and other pieces for the agriculturalists. Waste not want not please.

"Our next issue is rather dire as well. Due to the limited stores of fuel in the Sunnydale Military Base, I am requisitioning all diesel stores within the limits of our transported area. The generators run on diesel fuel, so any and all will be used to power the city until such a time as we can find a different power source. Which brings me to our next problem.

"We need people with engineering background or have talents in this field to report to the Jameson Engineering building. When they are assembled they will be given the task of finding the best solution for the energy crisis. This may involve the breaking down and transporting of the Sunnydale Hydroelectric Dam to a new location.

"Geologists and other Earth Scientists should report to the Geology department at the University campus.

"This next request is going to sound outright strange to some people, and possibly make you question my sanity. Considering the situation I'm perfectly sane. Would everyone with experience with magic and witchcraft please report to the Liberal Studies Hall at the University campus. Once again, please take the request with a momentary suspension of disbelief.

"Though I am sure some of you have heard the rumors, we are not alone in this world. When a team of military personnel were sent out to explore the outlying regions, they were attacked by a native hostile species with has a significant resemblance to the extinct earth species australopithecines, which were found in Africa. Lucy would be a famous example, found by Dr. Leakey. The picture to my left is an enlarged photograph of the creature. They attacked the recon team in great numbers, but were chased off by these creatures. These new assailants look human except for their skin, lack of hair and their height, somewhere around twenty feet tall. These are also hostile to us."

"This is not a hoax. We have also met other, friendly natives. These six are currently being treating for wounds they received saving our brave young men in battle today."

"We are not at risk at this time. We have patrols on the outskirts with radios who will give us plenty of warning if any other hostiles are spotted.

"Tomorrow please tune in again as we will have an update on the current situation. If there are other updates before then an alarm will sound on FM 102.9. Otherwise nothing will play on that station. Please keep a radio turned for any emergencies."

"Thank you and goodnight."

The mayor nodded and stood up from his seat.

* * *

There was a hush in Sunnydale for some time afterwards. Then people began buzzing with activity. Some were questioning his decisions, others praising them. Some just accepted the situation as it was. Others were preparing what they needed for tomorrow. A few were gaping after seeing the images of the "natives."

"Oh, my god!" screamed Warren as he dropped his welding torch. He had been working on his latest robot girlfriend. This one would be the best yet. The last one got stuck on three phrases and he was tired of hearing "Chicken Pudding Eats Cuddles, Honey" over and over again. But that wasn't important now. He and his friends had been playing Dungeons and Dragons for years and he knew an elf when he saw one. Or two according to the pictures. And one was a Dark Elf.

"Honey are you okay?" his mother called down the stairs.

"Sorry mom! The mayor's speech!"

"I know hon, just be a little quieter next time," she said from the top of the cellar stairs.

"This is-wow, I mean, wow," he stuttered. Andrew was going to flip.

* * *

Andrew did flip. After watching the mayor's speech, he ran to his room. His family looked at him strangely, even his nerdy older brother. He threw open the closet door revealing shelves upon shelves of Dungeons and Dragons books with a framed and autographed image of the Holy Creators: JRR Tolkien, George Lucas and Gary Gygax. Andrew fell to his knees.

"Thank you Gary Gygax for preparing me for this moment!"

He was still praying to the makeshift shrine when his brother knocked on the door the next morning.

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	8. Chapter 8

The teams were patrolling all over the edge of the transported section. Each team was ordered to keep the others in sight and to assist if there was another incursion. So far it had been a quiet, starlit night.

"Team 7 reporting. It's a quiet night," Said the team leader, reporting in as ordered. His team was assigned to the side where the port and ocean beach used to be. Now it was just a salt water lake surrounded by mountains and he wondered what could climb those steep sides. He had been walking for hours past his usual bedtime and he was exhausted. It was 0200 and he was ready for his shift to end, but he wasn't scheduled to be off until 0400. It had been bothering him for some time, that scratching sound from under the ground. There wasn't anything under there but more rocks, so he had dismissed it at first. But there it was again. "Team 7 to base, I'm hearing a scratching sound. It is repeating and does not sound natural."

"Understood, Team 7," he heard over the radio. The scratching continued with an added hiss as a nasty looking gas shot up from crack in the rock.

"We have some sort of gas seeping out of the ground here. It's seems pressurized and is shooting at regular intervals," he reported dutifully. "It smells like chlorine gas."

"Keep your distance," his men were already backing away. They had no desire to end up like those poor soldiers in the trenches. "Teams 6 and 8 are on their way now. We're sending in a transport with reserves now."

'We really need to get the choppers going,' he thought as the ground rumbled beneath him, knocking Team 7 from their feet. "Ground tremors!"

The team scrambled to their feet. And had their guns trained on the fissure that had broken with a burst of chlorine smelling gas. As the massive claw reached out of the fissure, they were struck with incomprehensible fear. They turned and ran, to afraid even to scream. Teams 6 and 8 reported in the fearful retreat a moment before they noticed the massive scaled head rise out of the ground. The dragon took a deep breath and exhaled, spraying a fine mist of chlorine gas at Team 6. Team 8 watched in horror as Team 6 Drowned on dry land. Team 8 glanced at the giant dragon and followed Team 7 in full retreat.

* * *

"It's a fucking dragon!" Inwardly Colonel Hennessey cursed his decision to command the Sunnydale base. This had been the second worst choice of his life. The first was getting married to his ex-wife. It was a shame that the Sunnydale base had been so scaled back after the Cold War. He could really use a tank. He turned to his second in command. "Send in the Apaches."

And he prayed that two attack helicopters could kill a dragon.

* * *

Buffy was sitting in class and listening to Snyder berate the class for not being 1000% perfect for the third time. She was more than a little bored. Then she realized the teacher next to Snyder was Ms. Calendar. Teaching Biology. The trollish principal stormed off finishing his rant.

"Pay attention Buffy, this is going to be on the test," Jenny Calendar said, tapping black board with a wooden pointer that looked suspiciously like Mr. Pointy. The drawing was of a dragon with a curving crest off the top of the head.

"The Green Dragon makes its lair in forested areas. It is one of the fastest dragons to attack, but it has its weaknesses. It can exhale a cloud of chlorine gas, but it has to breath deeply in order to do so," Ms. Calendar said, pointing Mr. Pointy directly at the dragon's eyes. "Remember."

And then Buffy woke up.

Buffy had gone to bed after an uneventful patrol through the parks and cemeteries. She felt like she had barely put her head on the pillow when she heard two helicopters fly over the house. Something was wrong, very wrong. Grabbing an orc axe she had left by the window and Mr. Pointy, she ran down stairs. She called Giles.

"Yes, what?"

"Giles, two helicopters," Buffy said, as she scribbled a note for her mother. "And a Slayer dream."

"Buffy, what is the matter? it is after two in the morning and I'm still suffering from planar jet lag," Giles said in a sleep addled voice.

"Spidy sense is tingling and two helicopters flew over head. Had a slayer dream about dragon bio. Something is seriously wrong," Buffy said. She didn't want Giles to know it had been Ms. Calendar in the dream. "They went out by the beach, er, what used to be the beach."

"Are you going?"

"Yeah, anything to help out the soldier boys," Buffy said with a certain amount of sarcasm. "Time for me to fly."

"Buffy, do be careful."

"Can't promise anything."

Hanging up the phone, she started running.

* * *

The Apaches flew over the town and spotted the target easily. It was about five stories tall, with scales, a long neck, huge leathery wings and a long snapping tale. It was a dragon right out of a fantasy novel.

"Commencing Attack run," the gunner said. They flew into range and opened fire. Unfortunately for them, most of the bullets bounced off the thick scales. The beast felt the rest though. It howled in pain, throwing back its head and took another deep breath. A moment later the corrosive gas filled the air. Luckily for the Apaches, they were able to slip aside to limit the amount of damage to the gunships. They spun around the creature, raining fire on its hide. The bullets were working finally. They had pierced the hide and were finally dealing damage, but it wasn't enough. Every time they got close to the head, it would breath the acidic cloud and they would have to move. Already the windshield was pitted and dangerously thin. A few more hits would pretty much cancel anything they could do.

Even so they were alarmed when they noticed a little blond girl standing in front of it hefting an axe. They reported it in, even sending in visuals from their camera. Back at base Colonel Hennessey knew Buffy Summers was going to give him ulcers.

* * *

"Hey Scaly Butt, over here!" Buffy said, catching its attention. The Gunships had ceased firing, but the dragon still wasn't paying attention to her. So she got its attention by chopping its foot with the axe. It snarled and roared at the tiny distraction. "I said 'Over Here Scaly Butt!' You have rocks in your ears? Geeze, I've seen blind vamps more attentive than you!"

Buffy began to run, flashing a V for Victory to the Gunships. She hoped they'd get that she was acting as a distraction. She pointed to her eye and then to the dragon.

* * *

"Sir she's distracting the dragon," Team 8's leader reported in from behind a rock. "She chopped its foot and then ran away. She keeps motioning to her eye and back at the dragon…no sir I don't think she's asking us to look at it. I think she wants us to shoot it in the eyes."

* * *

The Apaches started shooting at its head. The dragon flinched away quickly. Blood was spurting from the eye socket. It turned to face the gunships again, taking a deep breath. The Apaches, having long since learned what that meant, moved out of range. Buffy knew what this meant now too. Swinging her axe around, she threw it up in the air, plunging it deep into the beast's neck. Surprised, the creature only release a tiny puff of gas compared to the massive cloud it usually had. Unfortunately, Buffy was unarmed.

"You look like Godzilla and Mothra's dirty love child," she taunted as she ran away as fast as her legs could carry her, drawing it away from town

As the dragon rumbled by, chasing after the blond slayer, Team 8 opened fire on it, concentrating on its eyes. They ducked back down behind the boulder when it turned towards them. To give them cover, the Gunships opened up again, but from their poor angle most of the rounds just bounced off the tough skull. The dragon spun around with grace and speed unnatural to something of its size and hit one of the Apaches, knocking it towards the port. The other gunship gained altitude fast, saving itself from a similar fate. Charging the dragon, Buffy winked at Team 8 and blew them a kiss. The dragon crouched down, so its head was level with Buffy's charge. It took another deep breath, and Buffy sped up to a sprint, charging and leaping before it could breath again. It sent out the cloud of gas, intending to reduce the pest to a pile of dissolving flesh. Instead it suddenly realized the blond thing had landed on its nose. Glaring at it with its good eye, it tried to shake her off, but Buffy had grabbed an overgrown fang and held on for dear life. Thank slayer strength for keeping her alive.

She leaped from fang to fang along its mouth, holding on whenever it tried shaking her off. With one last giant bound, she caught the dragon's eyelid with both hands. Reaching into her coat with one hand, she pulled out Mr. Pointy and drove the stake with all her strength into the dragon's remaining eye. The creature roared as it suddenly became blind. This time, Buffy let herself get flung off and went flying into the water beyond the beach with a massive splash.

With the dragon blinded, the gunships circled the dragon, concentrating fire on its head. Team 8 would pop out every so often to give some cover fire when the head got a little close to one Apache or the other. Eventually, after far too many tense moments, the dragon shuddered and collapsed to the ground. The gunships kept firing until they were sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was dead.

* * *

Buffy felt her body fly through the air, taking a deep breath before the plunge deep into the cold ocean water shocked her system. It was dark, but luckily the lights from the port told her which side was up. Swimming up, she gasped for air when she broke the surface. Soaking wet, she dragged herself out of the ocean and walked back to the dragon. Team 8 was around keeping the area secure and keeping civilians away who had heard the firefight and the roar of the dragon. Even at 3am, they were having a hard time of it. Walking right up to the head, the Slayer reached inside the bloody eye socket and reached around until her hand felt the familiar curves and points of the stake Kendra had bequeathed to her. Mr. Pointy back in her possession, she nodded to Team 8 and went back home, ignoring the press cameras and using a few burst of slayer enhanced speed to get away.

Back at Revello Drive, Buffy washed her hands in the kitchen sink, dropped her dragon blood stained clothing in the hamper and slipped back into bed, Mr. Pointy placed carefully on the bed stand.

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	9. Chapter 9

Willow Rosenberg awoke to a huge commotion outside her house. She had adjusted to the new world time zone with relative ease, but she had still slept long past her usual time. Looking out her window she saw a group of people with cameras and microphones.

"Why is the press outside my house?" If her parents had been there, they would have chased them away with the statement that "childhood celebrity causes a multitude of problems in development" in their psychologist style. Scrambling to the phone in her room, Willow dialed the Summers number and waited until Buffy picked up.

"Buffy, good. There are all these people outside and when I looked out the window they all started taking pictures and they're trying to get inside the house right now," Willow babbled into the receiver.

"Willow, it's kinda my fault," Buffy said before briefly explaining about the Dragon the night before.

"Whoa, you slayed a dragon? That's, you know, really cool," Willow said, not really babbling anymore. "But why are they around me?"

"It's all over the morning news. They found out who I was when someone from school recognized me and then told them who my friends were," Buffy explained. "Snyder's all over the news claiming the dragon was my fault to begin with."

"Well, in a way, he's kinda right since you, you know, slept with Angel," Willow instantly regretted saying it.

"Oh, thanks Will, siding with the enemy," Buffy said, laughing it off, but inside she knew Willow was right. To assuage her guilt, Buffy had decided she would do anything to make sure Sunnydale survived, but it was a goal she had to live for, so she was damned if she was going the way of the other Slayers, the way of Kendra. She changed the topic. "So are you going to the Magic meeting?"

"Yeah, I was also thinking of going to the engineers one too, cuz, you know, I'm really good with computers and stuff.," Willow said hesitantly. "OOO! I almost forgot to tell you! I floated my first pencil last night!"

"That's great!"

"I know, and it was totally on accident, too," she babbled excitedly. For the next half hour Willow told Buffy everything about the accidental floating pencil.

* * *

Xander awoke to the sound of his hung-over father pounding on his door. Tony Harris already had a bottle in his hand when Xander opened the door. 'On the upside, no one's making more scotch so he'll run out eventually,' thought the Harris boy before asking what his father wanted.

"There's a whole bunch of reporters outside, and they want you, so get going, they're giving me a headache. What'd you do? Rob a liquor store?" Tony Harris always thought the least of his son. "Should have brought me a bottle back."

"I didn't rob anything," Xander protested, but he knew it was pointless to argue. Slipping on a pair of pants over his boxers, he went to the door to meet the press. When he opened it, he though one or two would be there, he didn't expect 15 people flashing bulbs in his face. He hadn't know there were that many reporters in Sunnydale.

There were actually a lot more. Sunnydale had several stations, one NBC and one CBS, one public television station, three public access stations and one all Christian services station. Add to it the other stations, both TV and Radio, that had offices in the city limits, and the newspapers, Sunnydale had an impressive number of reporters living in it. And they had all camped out around the Scooby Gang's houses to get the scoop.

Xander closed the door in their faces. He turned walked passed his father and went back to get dressed.

* * *

Joyce Summers was not pleased by the attention her daughter was getting. It was bad enough that they had spotted her helping attack the Dragon, but the fact that they had displayed Buffy across the airwaves in a wet t-shirt had practically sent Joyce through the roof. Waves of anger flew off of her as she opened the door. The lights flashed in her face.

"What do you think you are doing?" There was a cold edge to her voice that made even the most intrepid reporter pause.

"Amber Lang, CNN, we would like to interview your daughter." Amber Lang was a pretty woman in her late twenties or early thirties with fake blond hair and a bob cut.

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"You see we-"

"No."

"But I-"

"No. And now let me explain why," Joyce leaned down slightly so she seemed to tower over them. It was a technique she sometimes had used on Buffy when the girl had done something very wrong. The reporters shrank back, just slightly. "You are reporters, and in the US you have the right to free press. But only to a point. When you splash pictures and videos of my underage daughter soaking wet all over the news for hours, you have crossed the line. When you stake out her house and those of her friends, you have crossed the line. She is my daughter and until she is 18 these kind of things are my decision. NOT YOURS! If you want information, we will release it on our own schedule."

The reporters watched her stunned as the door slammed in their faces. It opened a moment later and the Slayer's mother popped her head back out. "And if you stalk my daughter, or her friends, like a bunch of rabid paparazzi, I'll, well, you don't even want to know what I'll do to you." And the door slammed in their faces again.

Oz drove his van behind the Harris house and waited for Xander to arrive. Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies were inside talking about what to do. Giles had locked his front door and crept out the back window of his flat. Willow and Buffy had similarly escaped.

"Campus next?" Oz said, looking to the Gang in the rear view.

"Not me. Drop me off at the base," Xander said, much to the surprise of the others. He shrugged. "I have years of virtual experience as a soldier thanks to Halloween. I should at use it."

"That is rather mature of you Xander," Giles said, impressed by his decision. "However, I hesitate to feel it is the safest place for you in these times." Xander just shrugged, not having a response because the Watcher was right.

Oz soon dropped Xander off before detouring to the university. Xander was amazed at the number of reserves in Sunnydale. They were back in their uniforms, carrying duffel sacks and equipment, lined up around the block. Xander stood out by his hair and his age. Anyone could glance and see he was too young and he was sheepishly standing in line. Although he had the memories and skills of a soldier, he lacked the build and manner of an experienced soldier. Magic was great, but Xander's natural tendencies would continue to dominate: namely sarcasm and a mistrust of authority figures. The line moved swiftly as the reserves were processed and Xander found himself at the front of the remaining line.

"Name, rank, serial number and branch," the officer said, typing the information into the computer. She didn't look up as she processed him.

"Uh, Xander, I mean Alexander Laval Harris, um, no rank and I can't remember my serial number," Xander said sheepishly. The blond soldier looked up at him with a look that could have froze fire. She was about mid 30s and resembled an older Buffy in uniform and half glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Xander drooled a little out of the side of his mouth, just a little.

"How old are you kid?"

"Um, 16."

"Go home and go back to school." Damn she was sexy when she was commanding.

"Well the problem is, I remember being a soldier even though I never really was except for that one night on Halloween," he explained. She looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Go Home!"

"Yes ma'am!"

Damn she was sexy.

Joyce walked into City Hall with a stride that emanated menace. Her threats to the press were plastered all over the airwaves and they had been debating the legality of her statements. Fortunately, almost everyone who called in (with the exception of one asshole who referred to Buffy as an "Under aged Hottie") they had been in support of her decision. Many parents were equally upset that they had shown Buffy in an accidental wet t-shirt contest, however not all of those were upset against the press. Some blamed Buffy and Joyce for parading around in a wet t-shirt. Joyce was so angry that she accidentally bumped into a pretty looking Japanese woman with a pageboy cut.

"Ooff! Oh, I'm so sorry," Joyce said, helping the younger woman to her feet.

"No, that's fine. You're Joyce Summers, right?" Joyce sighed and nodded.

"Yes, I guess you saw the show today."

"No, I only watch the business reports and a couple of period dramas these days," the younger woman put out a hand. "Tendo Nabiki. Or rather Nabiki Tendo as you Americans put family name last. I am the new liaison to the City representing the Japanese and Chinese refugees. I heard about you from the mayor. He said I should meet with you concerning some logistics."

"Oh, sorry. I was so wrapped up in something I totally forgot to look where I was going," Joyce said as she shook the woman's hand. "You speak English very well."

"Well, I like money and these days English and Chinese are the languages of money. I figured I should improve my speech," Nabiki said with a smile. "And I know about unwanted attention. I did hear about your daughter: helping to kill a dragon is a most impressive feat. My brother-in-Law just barely managed to defeat a half-dragon, some years back. Herb had some impressive martial arts back then and that made up for some of the difference. They are something of friends these days."

"Wait, you mean, we had dragons back on earth?"

"Not many anymore, but a few," the Japanese business woman said with a grin.

"And your brother in Law fights them?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that. He fights just about everything," Nabiki said musing. "He's a well known power back in Japan. He got his degree and became a teacher of all things."

"So is your family here, or are you separated?" Joyce asked a bit tentatively.

"You might see my family around," Nabiki said with a wide sly smile. "My little sister, Akane and Ranma, her husband, tend to stand out. She's usually either chasing after her three kids or her him. That's not counting their friends."

"How are they coping?"

"Oh, they act like they always did. And the kids are just like Akane and Ranma, always bickering over the slightest thing. They'll be five this year," Nabiki said with a chuckle. "I doubt anyone could stand to have them in the ship for much longer. Getting back to work, when are you going to the agriculture symposium?"

"Oh, since I'm not running it, I'm planning to be there a bit late."

"Perhaps we could talk on the way then."

"I'd like that. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Tendo."

* * *

At the Magic Symposium, as people were calling it, there were more than the average number of people, but they were as eclectic as would be expected. You had the New Age crowd who thought "magic" was just a metaphor for self empowerment, but had no real existence. These made up the bulk of the collection. The second group were the cultists; they had mostly arrived dressed in their robes and bearing their sacrificial knives, but a few were dressed like everyone else. The next group was significantly smaller; these were the true spell-casters who knew magic was real and had either witnessed it used, or were current casters. They ranged from rank beginners like Willow to a few long term experienced mages, one of which, pun not intended, had arrived simply to review the university campus with her daughter. The last group, and by far the smallest and most afraid, were the demons. No vampires had come, seeing as they had no way to get there in the daylight, but about ten members of other demon clans had arrived to give the others a hand. Clem was there, bearing fried chicken, as were four Brachen demons, one half-fyarl, three horned demons that looked suspiciously like Moloch and an incubus who was really just there to try to score some tail. Nine of the demons were looking at Buffy with some hesitation, but the incubus just stared in lust. Many of the other people recognized the Scooby Gang from the morning news. The first group was having a lot of trouble with the last group and the cultists were split up into their various cults. Most of the spell casters were discussing magical theory and processes while ignoring others around them.

"Oh, there's a lot of people here," Willow was rather nervous and she shook her good arm nervously. Being one of the two people the Mayor had asked to run the meeting was not going well with the butterflies in her stomach. Giles, the other meeting leader, was rather amused and remembered the talent show.

"You'll do fine," Giles reassured her with a smile. Buffy (poorly disguised in a trench coat and fedora) waved to her from the crowd. Oz just winked and gave her a thumbs up.

"Okay, um, now if everyone would please sit down," Willow said a little too quietly. As far as she could tell, no one was paying attention. 'Louder' mouthed Buffy. "PLEASE SIT DOWN!"

"Oooo, that was too loud," Willow said as she started to panic. Giles put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Oh so thank you all for coming. We have a lot to cover and now Giles needs to take over."

"Hallo, I am Rupert Giles and this is Willow Rosenberg, and we will be leading today's discussion," Giles said as an introduction. He held a paper up; it was a list of names of everyone who had attended and a few fake names some smart ass had decided to add. "I would like to thank the members of the Brachen demon clan for joining us. Their people have a long history of planar travel and they could be of great help. And we must give our thanks to all of you who have attended today. I know this is a trying time, but we all must work together." He noticed a tall thin woman with black hair raising her hand. She was one of the New Age people.

"What the hell happened?" She said, a murmur of agreement burbled up from the crowd. "Why are we here? How did we get here?"

"In a word? Magic," even with the demons in the crowd, the New Age group murmured with disbelief. "Now, the entire story is far too complex, but suffice to say that some vampires tried to destroy the world, the Slayer, Buffy Summers, and Willow, here, managed to stop them, but not before the town of Sunnydale and the surrounding areas were transported to this location."

"But where are we?"

"Truth be told, the alternate dimensions are countless and many of the texts that detailed the various hells and other planes have been lost," Giles said with a shrug. "We could be in any number of Forgotten Realms."

"So how do we get back?"

"I have no idea," said Giles truthfully. "Now any other questions?"

"So magic is real?"

"Yes. Next question?"

"How do you know Buffy?"

"Are you a member of the press?"

"Yes, but I want to know-"

"This is not a press conference, missy!" Willow tried to look menacing with her hands on her hips, but the rainbow colored shirt just wasn't cutting it. "If you wish to know about Buffy, ask her mother for an interview or I'll sure make you know better!"

Everyone had decided that Joyce Summers was press secretary for the Watcher's Council. This was pretty much because Joyce Summers was awesome and could scare anyone if she wanted to. Buffy was proud of her mom.

"But I just-" Giles held up a hand.

"As I believe Willow just said, this is not a press conference. We are here to combine our resources and knowledge to best adapt to our surroundings. If you have something positive to contribute to the conversation, please do, otherwise listen." Giles pulled off his glasses and inspected them for dust. "Now, would anyone else prefer to ask a question before we begin?" Six hands went up. "Not about Buffy or about how we got here, or about the ten demons in the room." Five hands went down. "Yes please."

"What do you hope to create by bringing us all together? I know that most of these people are either wannabes or demon cultists who can't do anything on their own, but it seems foolish to include them," this was the strong middle aged woman Giles had noted, the one with the daughter looking at colleges.

"Ultimately I want to have a magical track in school if people wish it. There is little denying magic these days so we should train it, just as we train for engineers and artists," Giles said putting his glasses back on after cleaning them. "Now I will take a back seat as Willow leads the discussion. Willow?" She had frozen. "Willow, you're up."

"Oh, okay. Um, what was your name?"

"Evelyn McClay. This is my daughter Tara," The woman said motioning to her daughter who seemed to shrink inside herself at the attention. "I've been practicing since I was five when my mother taught me. Now I teach Tara. I have a small coven back home where we join for some greater magics."

"Oh, good. Um, do you think you could tell a little about the basics of magic?" Willow was getting a little better at standing in front of others.

"It would be a pleasure," The woman said with a smile. She walked up to the front and stood beside the others on stage. "Magic is, at its heart, like everything else. We are all made up of atoms which are made up of smaller parts which are in turn made up of energy. Magic is very simply the method we us to manipulate the energies around us. This can be anything from lifting a pencil to connecting oneself to the earth and plants around you. Within the limits of your creativity and control, anything is possible. Although our magical knowledge is severely weak when compared to centuries past, we can still create some impressive effects." A hand went up. "Yes?"

"Is it true that magic and technology are incompatible like they say in Harry Potter?"

"No, that is utter rubbish. And we don't need wands either. In fact some of the greatest minds have combined science and magic to wonderful effect," explained Evelyn McClay. "Some buildings have dual security systems of both magic and mundane. There are an infinite number of possibilities and combinations."

"Now there are various ways that people classify magic," Evelyn continued. She turned to the white board and started jotting down lists. "The most common way people divide magic is into two categories: Light and Dark magic. This is a rather pointless method because it forgets the most important part of magic: Intent. The second most common delineation is Divine and Arcane. This was made popular by Dungeons and Dragons. This is a little useless, considering how it doesn't represent how things really work.

"Many spells depend on the invocation of certain entities, occasionally deities, occasionally demons. Not all demons are evil. Some are quite benevolent. Other spells create countless possibilities all depending on your force of will.

"There are hundreds of magical traditions on Earth. These range from the wiccan movement to Japanese Shinto ceremonies to Catholic exorcists to cultists who follow demons, gods or worse. I am sure there are as many if not more traditions here on this new world as well. Each has its own spells and ethical outlook. Often these traditions come into conflict for various viewpoints or religious beliefs.

"Thanks Mrs. McClay," Willow said. She glanced at her self made agenda. "Okay, now why don't we make a list of what traditions we have here today?"

For the rest of the day they were busy organizing the community. By the end of the day, they had a good idea of their next step, but it would be months of work before they could build up to their eventual goal of a magical track in education

* * *

In Sunnydale Medical Center, it was complete chaos. After hours of surgery, the surgeons were finally done with the most serious cavemen cases. Every caveman was treated and then restrained to their beds. Agent Graham Miller was not on active duty, but had been discharged and the strangers (with the exception of McGristle who had been detained) had been treated, stitched up and were currently living in the mansion that had caused the whole problem. If it had been in any other place they would have thought it to be a palace, but the Frank Lloyd Wright architecture was unlike anything they had ever seen. They had been given food and drink and treated like guests, except for the soldiers standing outside who both prevented them from leaving and anyone from entering.

"I'm almost done researching the spell," Dove reported to her companions. They had found the language barrier almost impossible to break without the proper spells. They and the Drow had been deposited in the mansion the night before, and the Drow had not yet awoken. "It is a limited spell. I can read their language, but I cannot speak their tongue in return."

It was a bit of a disappointment. The spell was one of the most minor communication spells, but to develop a more powerful one would take weeks that they did not have. This was something the North needed to know about, if only to help protect them. People had tried to build cities in the Nether Mountains before and none had managed to survive for long. Monsters ruled in these hills, not the civilized races.

"Have you been able to contact your Sisters?" Gabriel asked with some trepidation. The Seven Sisters were legends, but not all of them were as…stable…as Dove Falconhand. Dove shook her head.

"No, I do not have all my spells with me, so it is difficult for me to communicate. I have sent an animal messenger, but it will take time for the bird to reach its destination," she explained.

"They seem very civilized," commented the dwarven sage Fret. "Their technology is more advanced than ours, so advanced many less enlightened people might mistake it for magic. Their food is strange as well. I do not recognize many of these vegetables, though this one," he said, holding up a piece of leafy green, "might be a variety of lettuce."

"And we have been treated well," mused Kellindil. "Though we are not allowed to roam as we will."

"From a soldier's point of view, I can understand that," Gabriel said gruffly. "They have little reason to trust us. Were it me, I would say it was far too much of a coincidence for us to arrive just when they needed help the most. I would have been much more suspicious of us."

"Yes, especially since we know this city did not exist just a few years ago," Fret agreed. "A city this size would not be built unnoticed. Though, did either of you hear the rumble from the sky last night?" Several of the others nodded. "I wonder what it was. It was much louder than those carriages that brought us here."

"Perhaps it was some attack, I heard sounds similar to those weapons they used against the orcs," Kellindil said, gesturing to his keen elven ears. "There were roars of a beast as well. I suspect they may have encountered one of the many monsters of the Nether Mountains."

"I still wonder what we are going to do with him," Gabriel said, pointing behind him at the still unconscious dark elf on the bed.

"I want to speak with him when he awakens," the blond elf said. "After all, we are cousins after a fashion."

"I am going to the house library and reading everything about these people," Dove said, "Perhaps we have gained new allies in the North."

Dove left them and retreated to the library. It was two stories tall with ever inch of shelf filled with books. On the table was a sphere that appeared to be a map. If this was correct, they had a map of the entire world, although it looked nothing like the similar maps of Toril she had seen. The concept that these people could have come from another world was not a new one. There had been tales of such in the past. Perhaps these people were from some other plane? She would have to see.

Many of the books she read were personal histories of human struggles. There was an entire section dedicated to something called the World Wars. She shivered at the concept of something that could throw an entire world in to conflict. As she read the texts she was alarmed to hear of the horrors these people called the Nazis had committed. And there were others. Books dedicated to the study of genocide where an entire ethnic group was targeted for extinction. The detailed images of the destruction was worse than anything she had seen in her centuries of life. Horrified at the concept that people were capable of such abominations (and secretly horrified at herself for the similarities to certain Faerunian conflicts), she skipped past it and discovered something more terrifying: weapons that could destroy cities. The tales of the bombs dropping on Hiroshima and Nagasaki were worse than anything she had read so far. According to her reading this had taken place barely fifty years before the book was written. What kind of world had these people come from. She took a pad of blank paper and with her feathered quill began to write notes in her own language.

She moved on to other subjects and discovered not everything was about war. The concept of Civil Rights was not exactly new, but her world was vastly different from this one she read. She read of Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X and others. She read of feminists who said they needed men like a fish needed a bicycle. Next she read about the bicycle and discovered an interesting creation. She knew many places that would have benefited from them. She wouldn't mind having one herself. She read of cities made up of tens of millions of people, bigger than most countries she had traveled to. She could not even comprehend the concept of that many people living so close together. Then she went on to other subjects like science, the liberal arts and grammar. Eventually she found the fiction section.

This was perhaps the most confusing, if pleasurable section of the library. Right inside were the words "This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental." It was like the legends told in taverns of the fish that got away or the legendary beast of the tower that no one had entered in generations. But these stories were more fanciful. Some discussed civilizations that lived among the stars, but a few were much more like her world.

After hours had passed, Kellindil walked in to tell her that the dark elf had awoken. He was amused to find her sitting at a table by the window with books piled up on the table three feet high. She didn't hear him the first two times he called. She had been reading a book called the Maltese Falcon and was amazed at how the entire story was from a villain's point of view. She had no understanding that Sam Spade was an Antihero. Michael Morcock's works would have positively shocked her.

"Dove! Lady Falconhand!" The chosen of Mystra jumped in surprise when she finally heard him. He smiled slightly at the silly human. "The dark elf has awoken."

Back in the living room, Drizzt was alarmed. The people who had been hunting him (save McGristle) were all around him and his leg was bound in such a way that he would not be able to escape. The light elf left the room before returning with the white haired woman he had seen leading them.

"You have given us a merry chase, Drow," the woman said calmly. He could not detect her current emotion. "It has been ten years since Drow were seen in these parts and the last time they slaughtered a small elven community with only one child survivor. We are interested in your intentions with the surface world."

"I didn't kill the Thistledowns," the dark elf said defensively. The light elf smirked slightly, suddenly realizing how young the dark elf was. Unbeknownst to the others, Drizzt's hand had reached into his pocket and grasped the panther figurine.

"We know you didn't. We found the barghests you killed," Kellindil said smiling sadly "and all evidence points to them. McGristle blames you though and no amount of evidence will dissuade him."

"Why is he not here?"

"The people who brought us here have him detained," Fret said amused. "After he was healed and awoke he was put in manacles and dragged away screaming. They took his dog too. It seems they do not like dirty humans."

"As dirty as he was, I doubt that he was detained for his unseemliness," Dove said with a smile. She had instantly disliked the man. "More likely it was because he had attacked you after the battle was over."

Drizzt's eyebrows rose surprised. Because of him? It was the first time anyone on the surface had leaned in his favor.

"Yes, it surprised us as well," Dove said, sitting down in a chair on the other side of the room. "So why don't you tell us how you got here."

Drizzt told them everything, from his cruel upbringing by his older sister to his father's plunge into the pool of acid. He told them about the fight against the gnolls and the barghests and about how he tried to introduce himself to the Thistledowns. Finally he told them of his side of the chase. "Now I have no place at all." Dove glanced to her companions and nodded. Her truth spell had verified that the Drow believed the tale. She was skilled enough to know if his dark elven magics had interfered and he had made no casting.

"But what of your panther? She ran behind that carriage and vanished," The dwarf asked. Drizzt was not about to give up his secrets that quickly.

"She is…special. She comes when I call for her," he answered. It was clear to everyone that there was more to the story, but they let it drop.

"Lady Falconhand, what did you learn with your spells?" Fret asked, changing the subject after a moment of tense silence. He was eager to learn more and had been so since his training at Candlekeep so many years ago.

"They have a history of equal parts war and peace. They have seen horrors in their past beyond our comprehension. Creations that can destroy cities, diseases that kill thousands. But they have brilliant thinkers and writers. They praise the arts and sciences and at the same time mock them. They choose their leaders from amongst themselves in some places; in others they have lines of royalty going back thousands of years." She poured herself a glass of water from a pitcher. It was clear like nothing she had ever seen. "From what I read they are both the best and the worst people. Scholarship is praised in many forms, but there are countless conflicting views of a subject."

"But where are they from?"

"From no where on Toril," she replied to their lack of surprise. "They have a map of their world in the library. From what I could tell this city is known as Sunnydale and is barely more than a town in their world. They have cities which house tens of millions of people on their world." Drizzt was shocked. Even mighty Menzoberranzan had but ten thousand citizens and some twenty thousand slaves. "They also have wars that involve almost every country in the world." They were equally shocked by the concept of global war. "And they have put people on their moon without magic." If the past few days had not shown such wonders, they would have laughed a the concept of traveling to the Moonmaid's domain without the help of planar travel magic.

"So what do we do?" Gabriel said as he polished his sword.

"I want to meet with their leaders and discuss things. We should be on the best of terms with these people if they are planning on staying here," Dove said. "A place like this Sunnydale will be the target of friends and enemies, merchants and mercenaries. However, I feel my sister will want reassurance they will be a helpful people instead of hostile in the Silver Marches."

"So what is to become of me?" Drizzt said with some trepidation.

"Your kind is hated by many of this land. Wherever you roam, it will not be met with open arms," Kellindil said honestly. "Though I am willing to give you a chance to prove yourself, many others will not."

"I will find my place," Drizzt said simply. Had she been there, Willow would have given him props for his resolve face.

* * *

"So, Ms. Tendo, what did you do back on earth?" Joyce asked as they walked towards the university.

"I was the CFO of a large corporation and on the boards of four others," Nabiki replied. "They were all foreign companies with the exception of the construction company I owned in my home town. I didn't want to get caught up in one of the major conglomerates. They are almost always family owned and I was not about to marry for money."

"I hope you don't mind me saying so, but isn't that a little-"

"-Strange for a Japanese woman?" Nabiki asked with a raised eyebrow and a sly smile. Joyce blushed a bit at the woman's frankness. "It is very strange according to many people in Japan. Just plain wrong by others. I had plenty of opportunities to marry for money: I am from an old and respected family and I am rather attractive (no shame in stating the truth). But it would not have been my money; I would have just been borrowing what belongs to someone else. I guess I have Ranma to thank for that."

"Your bother-in-law?"

"Lets just say, that despite his parents arguments otherwise, he made it perfectly clear that gender roles are not nearly as important as people think they are," Nabiki said with a laugh. "What about you?"

"Well, before we came here to Sunnydale last year, I was just your typical house wife from LA," Joyce said. She continued on, describing her divorce from Hank and the move to Sunnydale. "Now I run a gallery of works from all over the world. I suppose, I'll be getting them from all over this world if we keep going strong."

"This is not going to be easy," Nabiki said. "There is a massive amount of work to be done and perhaps not quite enough people to complete it in our lifetimes."

"True, but people are really pulling together," Joyce said, pointing towards the crowds moving to the university campus. "I am surprised. I would have thought there would be rioting and looting, but people want this to work. It's not easy, and I don't expect it to be, but it's easier than it could be."

"Those are dangerous words, Mrs. Summers."

"I've cursed us, haven't I?"

That night the various group leaders met back at Sunnydale City Hall. Each representative had a list of skills and information they had collected and most of them had little clue as what they should do with it. Colonel Hennessey was pleasantly surprised at the raw number of people who had come to the base that day. A number of people were no longer in the reserves, but had come back on because they were needed. He had a list of positions he needed to fill and a few ideas about the situation, but he was still not used to being the most senior officer of the Sunnydale Military. He looked around the table and noticed almost everyone was sitting in the same positions as before. The Scoobies, as he had been told they refer to themselves as, had mixed up their order a bit.

"So, Colonel, what do you have for us?"

"We have nearly 2,500 service men and women who signed up with us today, that brings our entire forces to just under 3000," the Colonel replied. He considered himself to be a cynical optimist, which, unlike the oxymoron it sounded like meant he always believed things would work out, but he always had a plan if they didn't. He sobered before continuing. "We lost three men last night with the dragon attack. I want to extend my thanks to Buffy for saving my teams last night with her quick thinking, we still have our Apaches because of you. But we need a better set up. We can't just have you running into danger without so much as a heads up."

"Actually, I called Giles and left Mom a note," Buffy said. "But I am the Slayer, it's what I do."

"And no matter what happens, or what Chose you, I do not like the fact that a sixteen year old girl is fighting a war," Colonel Hennessey replied. Joyce agreed that she didn't want her daughter constantly putting herself in danger. "However, I also, after last night, know that you won't stop even if I tell you."

"I'm seventeen," Buffy muttered under her breath.

"I can assure you, Colonel Hennessey, Buffy is the best at what she does," Giles said, sipping on a cup of tea.

"She is not an adult and she is not a soldier. She should not be in this," Walsh put in. Giles turned on her with a nasty glare. "She doesn't even know what she is doing."

"You are not qualified to understand the situation." It was a flat statement that made people notice the cool edge to his voice. "She is not the first to be in this situation, nor is she even the thousandth. She has a destiny cursed by fate. It is a simple fact that if she quits they will simply come after her. She is, as I have said, the best at what she does. She had survived things far beyond what a normal Slayer would have. She has saved this town and two worlds from destruction."

"But she-"

"I never said I was finished, now did I?" Giles needed someone to vent at and Walsh had just volunteered. "She did exactly what was needed to keep people alive. What do you think would have happened if she had not been there last night? That was rhetorical, don't answer that. More than one soldier would have died. Dragons are not simple creatures, but massively powerful beings. Without the four pronged attack I would not doubt that we would not be alive right now. None of us." Walsh gave him a glare that could have made paint peel off the walls. Giles never flinched.

"Now, now, you two," the Mayor wagged a finger at the two. "Let's not get too huffy here. Gosh darn it, I sure would like a team right now instead of a few factions. Let's see what Ms. Tendo has to say about the refugees. Ms. Nabiki Tendo is our new liaison to the cruise ships and is willing to work as a translator when necessary."

"Thank you Mayor," Nabiki Tendo stood up and looked at her note pad. "Of all the Japanese and Chinese speaking refugees about half are ready to revolt. After speaking with several of you, I have a proposition."

"Go ahead, I like forward thinking," the mayor grinned.

"I think we need to open both colleges as housing for the refugees," Nabiki Tendo said flatly. "People can only live in a cruise ship for so long before they need to walk out and about. We need to get at least half of the refugees out of there before something serious happens. There is the problem of the students still in campus housing. This is supposed to be nearly finals, if I understand the American university system correctly."

"I suggest also that temporary storage buildings be modified to act as temporary housing," the woman continued. "We have a large number of people who are willing to help build their own homes in the surrounding area, but a low number of people who actually have the skills to do so. We have some very experienced people from the Nerima Prefecture with plenty of construction experience due to the large amount of destruction that takes place there."

Most of the people stared at her like she was crazy. Oz just nodded in interest. The mayor was amused and Spike just shrugged. "Sounds like the place hasn't changed a bloody bit in forty years."

"Pulling this back to the topic of conversation: would these people be willing to help build the temporary buildings under direction of experienced laborers?" the mayor asked.

"I feel that a large number would," replied Nabiki.

"Good. Joyce, would you be willing to organize this with Ms. Tendo?"

Joyce Summers looked stunned at the mayor. Buffy gave her mother two thumbs up and a grin.

"I would love to," Joyce said.

"It's settled then. Please meet with the leaders of the ships this evening and tell us what you see by tomorrow," The mayor grinned and turned to the Scooby Gang. "Now, I'd like you guys to meet with the locals. We don't speak their language, but we might be able to find out some information about the surrounding area. Try and find out as much as you can."

"There are a few possible spells I could research, but they are usually used for earth or demon languages," Giles said, glancing at his notes. "They translate one language into another specific language.

Gathering up his papers as he stood, he nodded to the rest of the table. "We're making progress, but this isn't something we can just breeze through, people are accepting us for now, but that might not be the case in the near future. I am making each of you my special advisors, something like a cabinet. This gives you real power that you may use when necessary. Those who want to be on TV tonight, I'll be giving the nightly speech updating people to the situation. I've decided to do this every Tuesday night from now on," He tucked his notes under his arm and started towards the door. "Nine AM sharp people."

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	10. Chapter 10

They walked, rather than took a car. Petrol had been conserved for emergency vehicles, so there were very few cars on the road. The few that were driving were not the sort to pay attention to rules about conservation: the rich, the young, and the rebellious.

As the sun went down, they were accosted by nothing nor any one. The vampires that remained were keeping a low profile. Only the stupid and arrogant killed anyone these days. The smart ones simply drank a little and moved on quickly.

"Buffy, if the locals should prove hostile please only disarm them and try not to hurt them too much," Giles said with a smile.

"Okay, talky day, no slayey day. Got it," She said with a bounce in her step. Giles looked at his Slayer and knew something was wrong. He had known her for almost two years and there was something she was not sharing. He suspected it had to do with Angel avoiding her. The vampire was avoiding all the Scooby Gang. The guilt of what he had done in the few months of lacking a soul must have been near crippling for the creature. As much as Giles held in his rage, he allowed it to show for Angel. Though Giles knew there was a clear difference between Angelus and Angel logically, he couldn't help his rage towards Angel; knowing what that creature was capable of was horrifying. And it could happen again at almost any time. The curse depended on sorrow and regret for his actions. Every moment he spent with the woman it loved, might bring about the moment of true happiness everyone so feared. Perhaps if Giles had months to deal with the idea, he could have dealt with his memories of torture and Jenny, but it was all too fresh in his mind.

When they reached the Mansion the outside was kept by a perimeter of Initiative agents armed with the new electrical weapons. Xander was already calling them blasters and it had already taken off. Even Colonel Hennessey was referring to them as blasters and they had not known the existence of the weapons more than a few hours ago. The agents parted and waved the Scooby Gang through. Just inside, Team 3 escorted them to the strangers.

"Buffy Summers right?" The Scoobies looked up to see Riley Finn extending a hand to the blond girl. "I am Agent Riley Finn. These are Graham and Forest. I never got to thank you for saving our butts the other day."

"Hey, no prob. Just doing my job!" She said with a perky smile. She was still in love with Angel, but Riley was a cutie too. She turned to Graham: "How's the shoulder?"

"Healing well. I'm restrained to doing paperwork until the docs say I'm better," the agent said, showing off his sling.

"And he's been using it to pick up girls ever since," joked the tall Forest.

"Hey, you use what you've got! I haven't been able to use the 'man-in-uniform' shtick since I joined up with you idiots," he said with a smirk. Buffy snorted. In their own way, they were as close to each other as she was to Willow and Xander.

"Ignore these two," Riley said, rolling his eyes at their antics. "Just go on in. They're in the living room. If you need someone, just holler."

"Thank you Agent Finn," Giles said formally. Xander pushed his chair into the room. Giles looked around with a wince. Only a few short days ago he had been tortured nearly to death in this very room. As an accommodation to the locals it had been stocked with furniture and decorations and a blazing fire burned in the fireplace. Buffy glanced around, noting that Acathla had only been pushed into a corner and appeared to be a common statue. The hole of the sword was still there.

When they saw the new people enter the room, Dove's adventurers stood up to greet them. She was confused that three of the four were teenagers. She had been in enough waiting rooms to know she was being ignored by the leader and the meeting had been passed down the line. She wondered who she was meeting. The man in the strange chair with wheels held out his hand. Noting similar customs in other cultures, she grasped his hand and shook.

"And here we come to a veritable conundrum, you cannot understand me and I cannot understand you," Giles said in a friendly tone, making sure to smile. He motioned towards the long dining table in the other room. She seemed to understand the motion and her people moved to the table, two of them helping the dark elf with his crutches. When everyone sat down, Giles motioned to himself and said his name. He nodded to the Scooby Gang and they did the same, pointing to themselves and introducing themselves. The locals apparently understood and followed suit.

"Hmm…so your name is Dove. It is a pleasure to meet you even if I have no clue as to what you are saying," Buffy giggled a little at this. Giles shot her a look that made her at least keep it inside. Giles looked back over his shoulder and motioned to a guard to bring the food. The guard and four others pulled in trolleys of meat, fruit and vegetables. After it was placed on the table, he encouraged the locals to eat.

"Giles, what is this? It doesn't taste like beef," Xander asked, admittedly a little confused.

"Emu." Everyone turned to look at Oz. He nodded sagely and tapped his nose.

"Emu," asked Dove, as she pointed to her nose.

Buffy shook her head and pointed to the meat. Dove nodded and pointed to the bird. "Emu."

Buffy pointed to the fruit. "Fruit."

"Fruit."

After that it became a game. The Sunnydalers would say something in English and the locals would repeat it. Then the locals would say something in their language and the Sunnydalers would repeat that. This went on for much of the meal. Giles noticed that the young man with black skin did not seem to be a part of the same group. He did not take part in the game out loud, but still quietly memorized the words for future reference.

It was about then that Spike walked passed the room. Buffy jumped up from her seat and glared at him. "What are you doing here Spike?"

"Bloody Hell Slayer! You almost made my fangs fall out," Spike said with a bit of surprise. "Just going back to get a few things. Dru and I found a nice little crypt over in the graveyard over by Weatherly Park. I'm just packing up our stuff. Dru always wrinkles the shirts. Great girl Dru, but she can't pack for the life of her."

"You harm these people and-"

"Yeah, yeah Slayer, I'm dust. Heard it before. Hey, is that an elf?" Before she could say yes or no, the vampire walked over the Kellindil and started up a conversation in fluent elven. They spoke for several moments, exchanging greetings and making a few comments and the elf introduced the vampire to his companions and Drizzt who followed the entire conversation. Soon Spike said his goodbyes and was about to leave before being stopped by Buffy again. "What? You goin' to dust me because I said hello?"

"Spike, how do you of all people speak Elven?" Giles asked with some irritation.

"What? Just because I'm a vampire I can't like Tolkien? Bloody good writing the Hobbit," the blond vampire mused. "And for your information I speak several languages including High Elven and Fyarl. Well then, got to go. Dru said she'll have Chinese ready for dinner."

"Spike, remember if I find you've killed anyone, you and Drusilla are both dust," Buffy said, using Mr. Pointy to illustrate her point. "Get the point?"

"No killing, fine. Now I really have to go, Dru gets testy if I leave her too long," Spike said, sticking a cig into the corner of his mouth. The vampire walked out and soon passed by with a neatly packed box whistling a tune.

A long stunned moment passed the Scooby Gang as they absorbed the information. Then Oz said something rather profound.

"Should we have kept him here to translate?"

* * *

"Sir, I'm still a little confused as to why you chose the Slayer and her friends to be our diplomatic face," the mayor's deputy asked with his clipboard close to his chest. The mayor had been deep in concentration for some time, but the deputy knew when it was time to speak again.

Looking up from his work, Richard Wilkins the Third smiled brightly. "It's very simple, Mr. Finch! When they are in a diplomatic meeting I know exactly where they are and can finally get some work done."

"But they are hardly a problem," said Mr. Finch as he handed the mayor a writing implement.

"Gosh, Mr. Finch, we can't just let them run wild now can we?" The mayor took the knife and carved runes on the struggling orc bound to the sacrificial altar. The deputy had to run away and throw up. The mayor only shook his head and went back to work. "So hard to get good help these days." The mayor looked down at the struggling orc with a frown. "Now, now, if you struggle, it just makes it hurt more."

* * *

"This makes no sense." Fret said the words they were all thinking. "How can one of them speak High Elven when they can't even speak Common."

The meeting had ended well. After playing the word game a little more, the dinner had ended and it was getting late. After the blond girl had helped Drizzt back to his bed, they had left, saying only what the locals could assume was their goodbyes.

"At least we have a way of communication now," said Gabriel. He was getting twitchy. He had been cooped up in the house for far too long and he was ready to start moving again.

"I feel that person, Spike, was not well liked," Dove said after some thought. "The blond warrior, Buffy, was not pleased at his presence. And I felt…strange around him. He had an unpleasant aura about him."

"Perhaps he is of a different cast?"

"No Fret, this is clearly not a cast system, the tension feels much more personal, more like McGristle's feelings towards Young Drizzt," Kellindil commented. Drizzt looked up from his seat. The older elf just smiled kindly. "I only mean that there seemed to be an enmity between them."

"Perhaps they were enemies who are now forced to work together?" Eyes turned to Drizzt. He shrugged when they looked at him confused. "It is not that uncommon for yesterday's enemy to be today's ally. It happened all the time in Menzoberranzan."

"Oh, so that is the name of your city," Dove commented.

"Not my city, nor that of any male. We are simply allowed to live there by the matron mothers," Drizzt practically spat out the last phrase. "Little more than playthings. My own mother sacrificed my father because I lied about not killing a elven girl on a raid. She said that it would gain back Lloth's favor."

Kellindil's eyes widened at this news. "Tell me, young one, when did this raid take place?"

"Some ten years ago and more," Drizzt said, glancing over at the older elf. Kellindil noted the purple shade of his eyes. "Why?"

"No reason, I was just comparing the dates to the last Drow raid on the surface," the light skinned elf replied serenely. Dove raised a questioning eyebrow, but Kellindil simply smiled back.

"I didn't kill anyone on that raid. I couldn't ever bring myself to kill children," Drizzt said in a miserable tone. His guilt would not be assuaged any time soon.

* * *

Far away, Dove's magical animal messenger arrived in Silverymoon, the city known by many as the Gem of the North. The sparrow chirped until a beautiful silver haired woman walked over to it.

"Well, what have we here little one? What trouble has my dear little sister been up to these days?" Alustriel caressed the laden sparrow under the chin. She deftly pulled the scrolled paper from the bird's leg.

"Dear Sister," she read. "I am sure you have heard of the disturbance to the east. The destruction seems to be a side effect of a new city arriving from another plane. We encountered them while tracking a dark elf accused of murdering a family. We are currently guests in their town, but we are unable to leave. They are trying to learn as much about us as possible while we do the same. Language is a serious problem as we do not speak a common language save for one individual who speaks an archaic version of High Elven. We have not been harmed, but have been instead fed and given shelter. These two days have not been unpleasant.

"There are some interesting individuals. Buffy is a young warrior woman with an unexaggerated strength of ten or more. Giles seems to be her teacher, a skilled scholar who seeks to learn the common tongue. Spike is odd. He speaks the archaic High Elven, but his hands are cold and his eyes are soulless. I fear he may be an undead, but I cannot be sure at this time. There is much hostility between him and Buffy. Buffy reminds me much of myself when we were younger. Her friend Willow reminds me much of Laeral. You'll know what I mean when you meet her.

"The Drow is here, with us. His name is Drizzt Do'Urden and he hails from Menzoberranzan. He is not hostile to us, nor was he guilty of murder as had been suspected, and Kellindil reports that he is quite young, despite his combat prowess. His leg was broken by a stone giant's barrage and he currently recuperates in this mansion. He has a strong will, but is rather quiet. He also has a panther companion we have not seen in some time, although we have noticed paw prints in some rather odd places some mornings. Whatever the creature is, it excels in stealth.

"They have survived an attack by orcs and have most masterful weapons, not unlike those Lantan creations we have heard about in the South. Arquebuses, I believe they are called. They have a rate of fire that outstrips an experienced archer and can create wounds as sever as any sword. I feel these people would be better suited as allies rather than opponents. Perhaps they could even become the bastion you are looking for in the eastern Marches?

"As I know you, you have already sent out a party to investigate. Please call them back in and arrive yourself. Be prepared for debate and discussion. I feel you will be pleasantly surprised.

Sincerely with love,

Your Sister Dove.

* * *

Alustriel Silverhand caressed the sparrow under the beak. "Now little one, please tell your mistress I shall be there soon. This calls for a dramatic turn of events." The Sparrow chirped once and fluttered off towards the east. Dressing in her traveling clothes, she summoned up her friend and companion, Taern Thunderspell.

"Taern, I shall be traveling for some days now," the Chosen said simply as she fastened her cloak.

"Ah, where will you be going, my Lady?"

"To the origin of the disturbance which hit Sundabarr. It seems my sister has discovered the arrival of a new city from another plane," she replied, flicking her hair back behind an ear. "She has bid me come and play diplomat."

"Ah, so Dove," Taern said, as if that alone spoke volumes.

"Are you so surprised?"

"Considering some of your sisters, I am rather surprised they are not at fault," Taern joked as he passed her a spell book. "So I am to look after your city for a few days? I expect it shall still be here when you return."

"I would certainly hope so," she replied with a smile. Striding out onto her balcony she spoke a mystical phrase and summoned up a flaming chariot and a team of flying horses. "Oh and there's a Zent agent staying in The Red Goat Tavern and Inn. I've been scrying him for the past few days. Track him to find who he is working with."

"Will do, my Lady," Taern said as he waved goodbye. She shook the reins and the chariot of fire flew off into the sky.

* * *

Dove Falconhand received the sparrow the next day. The poor little bird was so tired it had fallen asleep in her hand the moment it got back. After hearing her sister's message, the Chosen of Mystra ran to the guards.

"Giles."

"Ma'am, Do you mean that you are asking for Rupert Giles?" The woman nodded and repeated the Watcher's name. Agent Riley sighed. He motioned for the woman to pause and called up on the phone. "Ma'am, one of the local's wants to speak to Giles."

"Is it the woman with the white hair?"

"Yes, the one called Dove," the woman was practically jumping up and down. "It seems to be urgent."

"I will get word to him.," Walsh replied.

"Understood, Ma'am," Riley said before turning back to the local woman. "Giles-here-soon." The woman bounced once and jumped inside. Riley turned to Forest. "I hope she understood."

"Hey, if she doesn't could you get her back out here to bounce around a little more?"

"Forest, you're a perv."

"No denials here."

* * *

That night Giles went the mansion alone. He wanted to try a few things that he didn't want Willow to see. He was worried about her obsession with magic. He knew from experience that it was a double edged sword. The more you learned, the more you used it as a shortcut for things that worked just as well by hand. Eventually it seduces you in ways you just cannot understand until you have fallen into the trap. Giles' tattoo burned under his shirt at the thought.

He walked in to find the men situated around the sitting room talking. The light elf was talking to the dark elf in hushed tones in some deep conversation. The other two listened closely and occasionally made comments. When they saw him, they pointed him towards the library.

Dove was sitting there reading the Lord of the Rings. Giles chuckled at the idea of a woman from a fantasy world reading a novel about a fantasy world. She never heard him as she read about the breaking of the Fellowship and the walk towards Mordor. Giles never said anything, only sat in a chair and watched as the sun went down. She kept reading past when most people would have turned on a light. When there was no longer enough light she closed the book with a sigh. Giles turned on the light, startling the white haired ranger.

"Giles!" Her surprise was gone in an instant, replaced by excitement and aggravation as she tried to convey that her sister would be arriving soon. It was such a hard concept to relay without a common language. She glanced around for props. She could use books. Pulling seven of them off the shelf, she put them in front of her on the table. She spoke her sisters names in order of birth. "Seylune." She said dropping the first volume of the Lord of the Rings down. "Alustriel" she said as she set down the second book. "Dove" she said, finishing the trilogy. She looked at his face as she put down the other four. He didn't understand. Frantically, she pointed to the third book and herself. He nodded. Good, it seemed he understood. She then pointed to the second book. "Alustriel," she said again, then pointed to the sky and then to town.

"I am sorry, but I do not understand." She sighed. She put up fingers, saying her sister's names again in order. Then grabbed her third finger and pointed to herself, saying her name again.

"Dove is three," Giles mimicked her.

"Alustriel is two," he said mimicking her again. He thought he understood, but he wasn't sure. Pulling out a piece of paper he drew a triangle and a circle connected by an equals sign. He pointed to the circle. "Dove, Buffy, Willow." She seemed to understand and pointed to the triangle.

"Giles, Gabriel, Kellindil, Fret." He smiled when she understood that the triangle meant male and the circle meant female. He then drew a line for children with seven sections. Dove took the pencil and drew seven circles and pointed to the third and said her name again. Giles nodded. She pointed to the second circle and said "Alustriel." She then pulled out "Sunnydale, a History," and opened it to the page that showed the mansion. "Alustriel."

Giles suddenly understood that Dove's sister was coming to Sunnydale.

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	11. Chapter 11

"Sir," Colonel Hennessey looked up from his paperwork to see his lieutenant saluting. She was the most competent officer he had ever had serve under him. She would have hit the glass ceiling if they had still been on earth, but he was in command now. "Yes Lieutenant, what is the matter?"

"We have reports of a flying ball of fire coming in from the west," she reported dutifully. Inwardly Hennessey's heart sank. More paperwork.

"This better not be another phoenix," the colonel growled. Seven of the birds had come to roost in the past two days and two buildings had nearly caught fire. Someone had shot the first with a gun, hoping for a meal. The resulting explosion as the bird regenerated itself had nearly melted the roof. The second bird was just the result of an unfortunate raven looking for a quick meal. Luckily the birds had discovered they liked perching on statues better.

"No sir. Our recon teams show that it seems to be a flying team of horses and fire," the blond Lieutenant said simply. Her face showed none of her amusement.

"A flying team of horses."

"Yes, sir."

"On fire."

"Yes, sir."

"Would you pass me my ulcer medication please?"

"Certainly sir."

* * *

Lady Alustriel Silverhand of Silverymoon was having a pleasant day, flying across the Silver Marches. A warm breeze was at her back, unusual for the early spring. The devastation was not as bad as it appeared from the ground. In many valleys the mountains had provided ample protection from the shock waves, creating pockets of green between piles of rubble. The Nether Mountains would be feeling the brunt of the blast for some time. In places streams were blocked by rock slides, creating pools much higher in the mountains that was normal for the region. Some of the hot springs were bubbling forth from very different places than before and were wreaking havoc with the surrounding areas. When she saw the flat plane of green perched between the roots of two mountains, she knew this had to be the city her sister spoke of. As cities went, it was not the most impressive at first glance. Waterdeep had high walls and closely packed buildings. Halruaa had cities carved out of the rock itself. Luskan had the Host Tower. Lost Myth Drannor had buildings that intermingled with trees so one could almost not tell them apart. This was just rows of boring small buildings.

But as she got closer she noticed the subtle wealth of the city. It was massive, much more widespread than any city she had ever been to. And each building in the outer areas had its own yard. This was unlike any city she had ever seen. The buildings were small, only two or three stories on average and made of unknown materials. So engrossed in her pass she only then noticed the growing rumble of two strange looking beasts. They flew, but had no wings and their eyes seemed to reflect the sun so brightly. Wait, was that a person in there? In its eye?

"Woman on the burning chariot! You are in Sunnydale Airspace, you are ordered to land immediately!"

She heard the words but did not understand the meaning. Holding the reins in one hand, she flicked the fingers of her other hand, casting a translation spell with a word.

"I repeat, you are in Sunnydale Airspace, you are ordered to land immediately!"

This was a rather rude way to greet a foreign head of state!

"If you do not comply we will fire! Land immediately!"

With a deep sigh, she complied, flying lower as the strange creatures guided her into a specific strip of road. A human with brightly colored sticks motioned for her to land. As soon as her chariot hit the ground, twenty young men and women armed with strange looking arquebuses and other things which do not look

"Step away from the chariot and put your hands in the air!"

Surprised at the reaction, she complied. A young man walked up to her, keeping the barrel of his weapon trained on her. "I am Agent Riley Finn. If you attempt anything that can be interpreted as a hostile action you will be shot. Please follow me," he said, summoning up all of his courage to stand up to the woman who rode in on a flying chariot with flaming wheels. With a word, she cast the spell of translation a second time allowing her to speak the local tongue.

"Young man, I am Lady Alustriel Silverhand, if you do not allow me to see my sister immediately, you will regret it," the silver haired woman said with a rather disturbing smile on her face.

"Lady, you could be the queen of the world and I wouldn't let you in. I have my orders," The other Initiative agents moved in to back him up. "No offense ma'am, but we have only a guess as to your intentions," Agent Finn said as they walked, the soldiers fell into step beside them. "As long as you come peacefully, you will be treated well. If we find you have hostile intentions you will be seen as a threat and dealt with as such. The only reason we allowed you this far is because we had advanced notice that you would be arriving."

With a slight humph, the regal woman strode forward with a kick of her skirts. Forest turned to Riley with a grin. "Bet you ten bucks that's the least weird thing we see today."

"You're on."

* * *

"Aren't you even going to ask me how we can understand each other?"

Riley looked back at her as they approached the Mansion.

"Judging by the fact that your words do not match with your lips, I would guess a translation spell," Alustriel looked up to see an older looking man holding out his hand. He was walking with a cane now. For an older man he was healing like someone half his age and even Dr. Chung had been impressed. He had not told them that he had been casting all the healing spells he knew every night to get well as fast as possible. "My name is Rupert Giles. Dove's sister, I presume?"

"Yes, Alustriel Silverhand by name," she shook the offered hand.

"Charmed, please join us inside."

* * *

It was nearly an hour before Snyder would allow the Scooby Gang to leave school early. Buffy's sudden celebrity was somewhat troubling because on one hand, she didn't have to hide the Slayer stuff, but on the other hand, with everyone watching her, it made her job a lot harder. There were actually spectators in graveyards watching for her to come by and slay some vamps. Seven people had been killed last night because they had been having a keg party next to a neophyte grave.

When they arrived at the mansion, it was clear that the locals had made an impression on the Initiative Agents. Riley and Forest were joking about facing down an army of cavemen was easier than dealing with the Lady of Silverymoon. "She's inside meeting with Dove. She's a powerful woman who's used to being obeyed."

"I'm sure the chariots of fire help in that," Forest put in with a grin.

Walking into the sitting room they found the already infamous Lady Alustriel Silverhand chatting amicably with the other locals. Her hair was a few shades darker than Dove, making her hair a bright silver without giving her the impression of being old. She was well over six feet tall with bright eyes and a look of agelessness about her. Giles walked up and extended his hand.

"Hallo, Lady Alustriel, my name is Rupert Giles, local head of the Watcher's Council. I am the Sunnydale representative meeting with you today," he was clearly not who she was expecting to meet with. Like her sister, she understood the similar gesture and shook his hand. "I welcome you to Sunnydale. I must apologize for the commotion when you arrived. You must understand that most…dramatic…arrivals so far have not been peaceful in our first few days on your world." He referred to the dragon, the orcs and the many mountain animals that had moved into the area after the destruction had ceased. There had been at least one six legged lizard that turned people to stone with a bite and two minotaurs. The minotaurs had been shocked out and delivered to the Initiative for study after Buffy had disarmed them. The lizard had been killed after it turned ten people into stone. The frozen bodies had already been placed in a park as a memorial.

"Well met, Mr. Giles. I will cast a translation spell on all present so we can all take part in the discussion," the regal woman replied. Willow watched enraptured as she noted the motions and intonation of the arcane spell.

"Thank you, it will make things much easier in the long run," Giles introduced the others before bowing to the rest of Dove's party, finally making their acquaintance. "Forgive me but this is the first time I can speak my thanks directly. You have all prevented an invasion that may have cost many lives. We cannot thank you enough."

"It was our duty, Mr. Giles," said Kellindil with a similar bow. Everyone noticed that his mouth did not exactly match the words they heard. It was like watching one of the old kung-fu movies with the really bad dub. You could understand the words, but it never matched what they said.

"And we must thank you for your pleasant accommodations," the dwarf, Fret said with a similar bow. "You have the most fascinating bathing rooms. It will be difficult to return to a heated tub after this." Xander stifled a comment. He had to remind himself that this was a diplomatic mission.

"Perhaps it would be better to adjourn to the dining room," Giles said, his hand leading the way. "We can have our discussion over dinner."

"When did Giles get so good at this stuff?" Buffy asked as she leaned in close to Willow.

"He said it was important when dealing with powerful demons," Willow said with a shrug.

"At least no one is being eaten for this discussion. I'm tired of being kidnapped for a demon sacrifice," Xander said with a similar shrug. The silver haired woman overheard this and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

The groups sat down on opposite sides of the huge table. It had been used for many things over the past months and after some serious scrubbing most of the blood had been removed, but the burn marks remained. It was quite clear which parts Spike had sat as cigarette burns dotted the area. Soon, Buffy came back with a huge bowl of fruit under one hand and a vegetable and meat platter in the other. The fruit was washed but none had been otherwise processed. As far as anyone could tell it had all been freshly picked.

"Bone apatite," Buffy said.

"That's 'bon appetite' Buffy," Willow corrected. The first phrase had made no sense through the translation spell, meaning basically "bone rock," but the second one was better translated as "good eating." Famished, the Lady of Silverymoon regally took several pieces of food onto her personal plate and ate calmly. When everyone had finished some food. The discussion began.

* * *

"So, Mr. Finch, have the Slayer and friends met with the new local yet?" the mayor asked, looking up from his work.

"Yes, the soldiers and Team 3 escorted her in just a few minutes ago," Mr. Finch said, glancing at his clipboard.

"They seem to work well with the slayer, don't you think?"

"Well, they have only worked together once, I'm not sure that's the best judge," his deputy replied.

"Good point. We should team them up more often to see if a long term arrangement can be made," the mayor continued.

"I'll see to it," Finch said as he jotted a note on his clipboard. "Are you not satisfied with Dr. Walsh?"

"I'm not sure dissatisfied is the right term," the mayor mused. "Perhaps 'wary of her inability to change for the situation' would be better. She keeps wanting to do the same thing she always did, but she clearly does not understand that she cannot keep the Initiative hidden any longer. And besides, their original goal here is pointless at this current juncture. Her efforts would be better spent on research and development."

"So are you planning to hand the agents over to the Colonel?"

"I'm considering it," Wilkins replied. "I'm also considering making them officially part of the Watcher's Council."

"What?!"

"I thought that would get your attention," he said with a chuckle. "I need these people alive. I didn't before. I have to adapt to a changing situation. The Initiative is made up of specialized agents who even have field experience. The fact of the matter is we need a special supernatural self defense force. We live in a world where magic comes flying in on blazing wheels. So far we have been lucky. When will we encounter someone who will choose to blast a helicopter out of the sky instead of complying?" Mr. Finch did not reply. "What was the outcome of the engineering symposium?"

"There are some impressive amateurs in town," Finch said, glancing at his notes. "There are several people who have made creations almost out of science fiction. One boy brought a humanoid robot as an example."

"Oh really? What is his name?"

"I don't have it written down here. I'll get it for you when we get back to the office."

"Good. An agriculture?"

"Joyce Summers reports that it looks good. People brought in samples of almost everything they had. Many other samples are being created by the University greenhouses as we speak. The seed bank seems to be a success, but not everything could be saved. At least we have chocolate."

"How did that happen?"

"Someone had a couple of trees in a greenhouse. We can grow the seeds and make a plantation. There is one problem with all of this: latitude and elevation. Many of our standard crops might not be able to live in this climate. We can keep them in heated greenhouses, but as of yet, we do not have a source of heat for the winter. Most houses are only heated for a brief period in the winter. We've only had snow here once."

"No, three times in the last century."

"Understood sir. This is a serious problem that we need to address."

"Look into it. Have Joyce help you if she has the time. Contact the geologists to see if there is potential for geothermal power," Wilkins commanded. "I think someone mentioned a volcano earlier."

"I believe it was spotted when the area was mapped earlier today. To the west I think, I will have to check my notes," Finch replied. "There were several people with sheep dogs, rabbits and a couple with a different breed of sheep so the scientists tell me they have a good stock for starting an expanded agriculture program. They also half joked about growing goldfish for food. It seems they have been a food fish in China for thousands of years. Some of them can grow feet long if allowed to live. From what they saw, the new freshwater lake might be big enough and cold enough to be a great breeding area for the goldfish if they can get enough food. Scientists suggested growing the fish in pools until they were big enough to fend for themselves. They, the scientists I mean, want to make some tests in the ocean-lake thing, to see if it is possible for it to continue sustaining life. We have edible crabs, fish, shellfish and some edible seaweeds in there. Someone suggested farming lobsters from those in the supermarket as well."

"What is happening to the zoo animals?"

"We don't really know what to do with them," Finch admitted. "We have enough food to keep most of them alive for the next month or so and after that we have to find some other way to keep them alive. Some people suggested releasing some, but they might not survive and there isn't enough of them to make a stable population for the most part. There is also the concern of invasive species. Other people suggested eating the animals, but they won't produce very much. Other areas are going to be renovated to be used as pastures and pens for some of the other animals. Our reindeer petting zoo might end up a reindeer farm."

"Gosh darn good work, Mr. Finch."

"Anything else sir?"

"Yes," the mayor held up a piece of orc flesh. "Does this look more like a toe or a finger to you? It's so hard to put them back together after you take them apart."

* * *

"So you have need of raw materials. These do not come free or even cheaply," the Lady of Silverymoon said, leaning back in her chair with a steely look. "And you admit you have little with which to trade for these goods."

"We have some animals of good stock. We have much scientific knowledge and some technology we are willing to trade," Giles explained.

"What kind of technology?" Lady Alustriel asked with a tight smile and an appraising eye. Dove was a little ashamed of her older sister who seemed to be taking the Sunnydalers for all they were worth.

"We are not willing to part with weapons technology and even if we were, you haven't the basic level of technology to properly utilize it," Giles said flatly. He opened a book from the library which illustrated the history of trains. "We do have some technology for transportation and trade. In many parts of our world we have the locomotive transport people and goods from one place to another at great speeds, much faster than horses can travel and greater volumes than magical travel."

"I'm listening," she said with a smile. They both knew this was not the best Sunnydale could produce, but the most Giles was willing to part with on the first day of negotiations.

"With rails you could travel from one city to another without the trouble of dealing with most common threats like bandits and random encounters," Giles explained. "You would have to stop the train for herds moving across the rails, dragons and similarly large creatures, but these are problems you would have to deal with normally. Troop transportation would become much faster, instead of moving a few miles each day, you could move hundreds of miles in a single day before having to move on foot. Horses and other larger animals can ride in special larger cars. Smaller versions can be made for cities and in mining tunnels."

"I am intrigued by your offer, but we are talking about hundreds of workers and caravans traveling through some of the most dangerous regions of the Nether mountains," Lady Alustriel said. "You will have to offer more if you are to convince me that the benefits are worth the risk of my subjects lives."

"We are willing to pass on our knowledge of medicine as well as animal husbandry," Giles said, opening another book to show images of medical procedures. "We are even willing to trade some of our animal stocks. We have very different genetic lines of bovines and sheep that are not seen on this world. Some are very disease resistant and others are bred to produce greater amounts of meat."

"I have priests who specialize in healing magic and druids who understand animals like their own children, why would your knowledge be useful to my people," Dove rolled her eyes at her sister. Alustriel was playing hardball, which only meant she respected the capabilities of Rupert Giles. She considered him a challenge, and she was loving it.

"Do your priests simply treat the problems, or do they prevent problems as well?" His opponent said nothing. "Healing, training, help with childbirth and pregnancy: in peasant societies there is no guarantee that people in isolated villages would have access to all those services. With this knowledge they can take care of many problems on their own without having to tax a small number of clerics serving a large area. It takes much longer to attain sufficient spell casting in order to service many people at once. We can train doctors in much less time to use our techniques and they do not need spellcasting at all. Doctors come from all religions and backgrounds as well. We know how to prevent plagues, infection and many other ailments with simply changes in lifestyle. We can pass this on as well as welcome students who wish to become doctors themselves."

"I can see your reasons for the medicine, but what about the animal husbandry?"

"We have scientists who have made it their life's work to study animal production and improving the stock," Giles answered. "They know more than I do on the subject. I have not made a study on it, but I am aware of its importance."

"I am not convinced on that subject," she said flatly. "We have the locomotive and the medical knowledge, but I need something more. I want a common protection pact."

"I cannot in good conscious agree to one if I do not know the feelings of the populace," Giles answered in an equally flat tone. "Sunnydale is not a monarchy. We are having enough problems internally without assisting other nations' problems. Unless everyone understands and agrees to the ramifications of the pact, I cannot in good conscious make this agreement."

"Well said. I wanted to test you. You have little reason to trust me and if you had agreed to that I would have thought you a fool," was her blunt statement. "However, I will need something more."

"But what do you need?" Buffy said, interrupting. The silver haired woman smiled at her.

"It is not a matter of what I need. I have everything I need, I am trying to see how much I want and how much of what I want that I can acquire," she answered. "I have seen flying vehicles. I want the knowledge of them."

"I can give you the physics behind them," Giles said simply. "But I refuse to give actual plans. They have potential to be dangerous and as you said, we do not truly know you. We are not willing to arm a potential threat. If you develop them on your own, that is fine, but we will not simply give them too you."

"If that is the case, why give me the locomotive?"

"The locomotive only runs on rails. The limits are much more sever for locomotives than aircraft." The woman laughed outright at Giles' blunt statement.

"Very well. I will take this for now and I will pass word to other city states of your needs. They are places I trust and deal with myself," the woman said. "Citadel Adbar will be quite interested in your engineering. I would expect them to arrive in a matter of weeks after they hear of you."

Negotiations over for the day, the two parties rose and shook hands. "I understand the problems with the language barrier. Tomorrow I will have some additional assistance for when I am not present," the Lady of Silverymoon said, shaking Giles' hand. She glanced at Buffy and Gabriel. "If you do not mind, I have not seen the Slayer fight and I would be interested in a demonstration of arms. If Lady Buffy does not mind." Indeed she did not. She was anxious to get some blood pumping in her after sitting still and quiet for two hours.

"It'll be fun!" Buffy said with a perky bounce. And soon she and Gabriel were standing opposite each other, wooden practice swords. Drizzt, unable to participate due to his broken leg, sat on the sidelines. He wanted to see more clearly the styles of these combatants. He had fought beside them, but never had a chance to see style and skill. He wondered too about Buffy's supernatural strength and speed. Would she simply rely on them and bully her way through the fight, or did she have the skill to properly utilize her abilities? He was as eager as everyone to see the fight.

Gabriel had chosen his usual bastard sword, albeit a similar sword made of wood. Buffy had chosen a single sword similar to the rapier she had used against Angel. Both looked to Alustriel who waved once and spoke one word: "Fight!"

Gabriel attacked first, swinging his massive sword from his left shoulder diagonally down. Buffy did not parry, but simply dodged out of the way. She went for the kill, a strike to the heart. But Gabriel was an experienced fighter and he managed to block the strike so it slid away harmlessly. He managed to get a quick slash at Buffy's thigh, but it was just a graze. Buffy made a feint as if she were going for the kill again, but struck the shoulder just above the armpit. It would have still been a bad wound if it had been a bad battle. With the next strike, they parried back and forth for some time, matching each other's strikes blow for blow. Buffy began closing the distance, making it more difficult for Gabriel to use the length of his sword to his advantage. Getting inside his guard, she was surprised when she suddenly found herself falling over. He had tripped her. She gave him a shocked look and he just shrugged and moved in to strike. Buffy rolled backwards avoiding three successive blows. Leaping to her feet, she struck out, parrying another of Gabriel's blows. He was good, damn good. As good as Angel, maybe better.

Gabriel was impressed by her as well. Not even twenty and she was fighting him to a standstill. Even if he was close to twice her age, he was only old enough to have gained plenty of skill and experience, but not yet old enough for his body to start to give out. He struck again and again, pushing her backwards. Being the Chosen One gave her an advantage, but there was plenty to be said for experience. She was driven against the wall, nearly pinned. Now! He struck out, intending to hit her in the abdomen, but suddenly she wasn't there. Buffy had flipped over him and landed on her feet with her sword flying towards his throat, he ducked and rolled out of the way, coming up and striking at her legs again. She flipped backwards, landing onto a table.

Buffy moved faster and faster, keeping the older man off balance. He was damn good, but she was the slayer. She wanted to keep this going, but he was only human. It was nicer of her to keep it short so he could save face. She struck at his sides, keeping him moving his sword side to side. She parried his blows that he somehow managed to still return. She slid below his guard, knocking the sword out of his hands with a kick to his wrists. She was up and had the sword at his neck.

Alustriel clapped her hands, ending the fight. Buffy suddenly realized that something was poking into her ribs. Looking down she realized it was a small wooden dagger held firm in Gabriel's hand.

"How'd you do that?" Buffy asked, confused as she stepped away. The man grinned through his helmet.

"Experience. You kept going for the kill. I knew you would go for the first opening you saw," Gabriel said with a smile, handing the dagger over to Giles.

"You fight like an assassin." Every one turned to see Drizzt sitting in a chair, speaking for the first time since Alustriel arrived. "Attempting to finish the fight with one move."

"It's the best way to fight Vampires," Buffy answered with a shrug. "It's too easy to get bitten otherwise."

"You are also more experienced with a shorter piercing weapon," Drizzt observed. Buffy reached inside her coat and pulled out Mr. Pointy.

"A present from a dead friend, meet Mr. Pointy," she responded perkily.

She did not know that for the Drow, the statement "from a dead friend" suggested she had killed the previous owner.

"It is an interesting color," observed Kellindil. "Does your wood naturally grow in that color?"

"Oh, that's because of the dragon blood the other night," Buffy said.

"You killed a dragon with a piece of wood?" asked Alustriel with a surprised look. Buffy blushed and shook her head.

"Nope, just blinded one with it. The helicopters killed it. I was mostly a distraction," she said, sitting back down on a seat and taking a drink of water from a glass. "Are all dragons that big? It was about the size of a house."

"Actually, they get larger than that. Much larger," cautioned Dove. She had watched the fight with the same interest. "And they are not stupid beasts. They are among the most crafty and intelligent creatures in Faerun."

"And they are not uncommon in this part of the world," said Alustriel. "Your people should especially fear the blue dragons of Dragondoom Mountain. They are some of the most territorial of all dragons and they do not fight alone, but in flights." Inwardly Buffy shuddered thinking of fighting more than one at a time.

"I'm going to get Colonel Hennessey to make AA guns a priority," said Xander.

Far too soon it was time for the sisters and their friends to leave. Alustriel vowed to return and bring maps and the first of many plans and deals from the other leaders in the Silver Marches. She apologized and said she should meet with her companions who would no doubt worry. She conjured up another chariot of fire, extending it, so that her sister and companions could right with her. In a blaze that streaked across the sky they were gone, leaving the Scooby Gang, Drizzt and the Initiative agents watching from far below.

The Scooby Gang would later be criticized for allowing them to leave.

"How, exactly, did you expect me to restrain them?" Said Giles after several minutes of berating. "Shoot the people who are willing to help us?" No one had an answer.

* * *

"I'm telling you it's true!"

Warren looked at Andrew like he was crazy. "Andrew, I play Dungeons and Dragons. You play Dungeons and Dragons. Jonathan plays Dungeons and Dragons. Half the people in town have played Dungeons and Dragons! You're the only one with the crazy talk."

"But I know it's true! I have the evidence right here!" Andrew held up a handful of loose printer pages. "It's the Forgotten Realms, the setting that never got made! Ed Greenwood and TSR had a falling out and it never got made. But TSR had already bought the rights, so Ed Greenwood took them to court. In the end they both lost and it never got made because the lawsuit cost too much money and TSR sold out to Wizards of the Coast!"

"I got it, it never got made. But Andrew, it's a fictional world. It doesn't exist. This," he said as he waved around to take in the world, "is quite clearly real. Ergo, we are not in a DnD setting!" He started walking away, shaking his head sadly.

"You watch! You'll understand I'm right, soon you will all see!"

"Andrew, stop talking like a 60s super-villain!"

"Sorry Mom!"

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	12. Chapter 12

"Buffy, what's wrong?" Joyce was a little concerned about her daughter. She had been walking aimlessly for hours around the house.

"You know that feeling when you've forgotten something but you can't remember what you've forgotten?"

"Oh don't worry, dear. Go to bed and if it's important I'm sure you'll remember it in the morning."

* * *

Deep with in the Initiative, a lonely occupant of a cell in a dark forgotten corner sat moping. Silently, without anyone to notice, McGristle shed a tear.

It was a week before Drizzt was allowed into the city. There was paperwork to finish, something he had no concept of. The people he dealt with seemed envious of the fact. In the time since the others had left, he had spent much of the time with Guenhwyvar exploring the building and reading.

Dove had given him a copy of the reading spell she developed and he had put it to good use. It did not allow for anything but reading words, but that was all he needed. He had recalled his love of reading from his time in Sorcery all those years ago. For nearly a year he has studied the Art, learning to cast a small array of spells. He had almost forgotten those few cantrips: a light spell for reading and a spell to create water. In there Underdark there is no light and vision was based on the infrared spectrum. Since the difference between the heat given off of paper compared to the ink on paper was so tiny, only those with the best eyes could read with infravision. All others needed to cast a spell to read their spellbook.

He went through the library over the long week. The previous owner of the building (who had an unfortunate end when Drusilla had shown up looking for a place to stay) had a deep interest in war and history, and Drizzt devoured the knowledge like a starving man. Just as Dove had done beforehand, he searched the entire room and every book. He was most fascinated by the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire. The book was written almost three hundred years before and described events thousands of years before that, but Drizzt could imagine the streets and the temples and every battle described. He then went on to learning about science in all its forms. In a second smaller room, there was a complete collection of National Geographic from issue one on. Over one hundred years of the magazine. Drizzt had some trouble with the concepts in many articles primarily because his education had little to do with science, even the basics. There was little perceived need for it, but as Drizzt's understanding grew, he could constantly name more places where it would have helped.

He thought back on his conversations with Kellindil. The surface elf had such a different outlook on life, but they were more alike than they were different. Both were rangers, skilled in swords and lived for a time in wilderness. Kellindil was very interested in the Underdark and Drizzt was very interested in the Surface, so they spent hours telling stories of their own experiences. In time, Drizzt thought he had made a friend, but his Drow upbringing was still nagging at him from the back of his mind. Would Kellindil betray him when his back was turned? The greater part of his mind said that Kellindil would not betray him. In fact, Drizzt suspected Kellindil would defend him when few others would not. It felt good. A friend, an elven friend with the same kind of bond he shared with his friends before the Mind Flayers took them over. Drizzt smile despite himself. It would be good to see his old friend again.

He could not understand his companions. But everyone tried. He had a hard time being understood in Menzoberranzan, but the language barrier was so much worse. There was so much he wanted to know, so many questions he wanted to ask. He tried asking one, but that one question had taken nearly an hour to make any sense of it. Even then, Drizzt was not sure he understood what they meant.

When he spent his first day outside the mansion, he was shocked at how different it was from Menzoberranzan and Blingdenstone. Both cities had been designed with defense in mind and aesthetics second. Sunnydale was designed to be easy to get around. Open streets, green lawns, small gardens. There were no places that he could see that had severe focus on defense. There were no walls and no private compounds, save for a small few. People didn't keep fences up, but others still stayed off of property. It was just common understanding.

The concept of ownership was another alien concept for the dark elf. He had been allowed to keep his weapons and some magical items, but ultimately everything he considered "his" was really the property of House Do'Urden, more accurately property of Matron Malice. In Sunnydale personal property was among the most important rights these people held dear. It was so strange a concept.

Here he had his own room and his own journal to write things down in. Buffy's mother had taken him into her home, clothed him and fed him. It was strange, very strange. There were only a very few times in Drow history when an adoption such as this took place, and every time it was in an attempt at dagger diplomacy and shadow intrigue. He felt, no he knew, this was not the case with House Summers. He had become a part of it. He was awake before any of the others were and up later than all others save for Buffy, who still climbed in the upstairs window late every night. He still wondered why.

The morning after he first stayed at House Summers, Buffy Summers had taken him along to another strange building. It was larger than almost any other building that he had seen on the surface. Only two stories high, but was wider and longer than many Menzoberranzan buildings. Muttering the translation spell, he read the sign out front as Sunnydale High School: Enter all who seek knowledge.

Buffy spoke to a short little man briefly who said a few things back in a nasty tone of voice. Buffy smiled and stuck out her tongue before scampering off, dragging Drizzt in her wake. They walked up a flight of stairs to another room filled with a number of students. Glancing at the board, Drizzt read: English as a Second Language, Beginners Course. Oh, so this is where they taught their tongue.

And this is how Drizzt's first big day at school began.

* * *

In a dark hold in the ground, Mayor Richard Wilkins the third, formerly, Richard Wilkins the second and before that, Richard Wilkins the first, was hard at work in his private study. Muttering an incantation, he cut the orc baby's neck, spraying blood on the altar.

"Richard," said the echoing voice of the demon Marv, "It is a pleasure to see you again so soon."

"Well, I just couldn't stay away," he said as he squeezed every last drop of blood out of the orc baby. "Well, it seems like the Sunnydale hellmouth is a bust."

"Hmm, that complicates things somewhat," mused Marv.

"But I have a dark elf living here and I hear stories of his home, this Menzoberranzan," the mayor said with a grin. "It seems they deal with demons a little too frequently there. Their deity, Lloth, is a demon-god herself. From everything I heard, the chaos, the rampant murder and demons, I think there might be a hellmouth somewhere nearby."

"I have heard of this place," Marv said. When the mayor shot him a questioning eyebrow, the greater demon Marv simply shrugged,"Demons talk."

"There are other places near by as well," The mayor said with a grin. "There's an abandoned city near by called Hellgate Keep by locals. From what I understand there are a multitude of demons trapped inside by magical wards. I heard something about demon elves in the woodlands as well."

"You seem to have plenty of options then, good," Marv said. "Contingency plans for both would be our best move."

"Oh, good, so this is what I want you to spread…" The two talked for some time planning so the end result would be in their favor.

The demon chuckled deeply at the end of their conversation, a deep, disturbing sound. "You are far too clever to be a mortal. Join us soon, Richard," Marv said before vanishing in a swirl of mist.

* * *

As the days went by, construction crews and helicopters were steadily bringing in new logs from the destroyed area around Sunnydale. The refugees were organized into groups by the leaders they chose and coordinated with the locals through translators. Once everything had been explained it was much easier for them to help. People had been finding places for the refugees. Some families had consolidated so that multiple generations now lived under one roof. It was hard, but for the most part people understood the situation and tried hard to work together. A few had become gangs and were not willing to assist in any logical fashion. The police were getting more active working against criminal mischief and other similar crimes; it seemed to be working. There were more tensions in the town than before and people still had a hard time dealing with the idea that magic was real. Flying horses drawing carts made of fire helped cure some disbelief, but there were some people out there who simply refused to believe. Worse, however, were those who thought all forms of magic were evil creations of the devil.

Reverend Samuel Housecraft was a Southern Baptist to the core. He ruled over one of the forty-three churches in the town and had, at about 250 people, one of the largest congregations of the Christian sects. He had decided Alustriel was the whore of Babylon, Lilith (ignoring of course, the fact that Lilith was not written in the Christian bible), and the spawn of the devil all combined. Somehow he had managed to convince the flock that he was right and they were protesting outside the mansion every time Alustriel arrived. She never appeared to be angry, but when someone had thrown a rock at her, every sign had burst into purple flames the color of Drizzt's eyes. People had been wise enough not to try stoning her again, but the act simply added fuel to the fire. No pun intended. Soon Housecraft's mob of protesters grew and they began stepping on the toes of people just trying to do their job.

Soon, however, as the help began to arrive from Silverymoon and Sundabar an anti-Housecraft faction began who then began protesting on the opposite side of the street. They were from the church across the street who were mostly Calvinists and they had decided that Alustriel was an angel sent from heaven to help them in their time of need. Alustriel laughed aloud at this, saying that yes she did work for a god, just not their's. This comment had started a third faction that refused to join Housecraft's faction, but still hated Alustriel for being a Pagan. This had started a fourth faction of the very large pagan community who protested there was nothing wrong with worshiping other deities. This had all happened in the length of a week.

Alustriel had, as her sister had foreseen, deeply wanted a source of stability in Turnstone pass. Sunnydale, situated between two powerful orc factions, fit the bill perfectly. She was determined to make it as powerful as she could without endangering her own people. She had made her case in Silverymoon and several other city states and all (with the exception of racist Nesme) had agreed quickly.

Her first order of business was five Amulets of Tongues, magical items which would translate any language into one the wearer knew. Alustriel was dissatisfied with the normal enchantment because it became a crutch, but unfortunately, it was all she had at the time. An idea for a new type of translation enchantment was forming in her mind, an enchantment that would more securely anchor Sunnydale in the Realms. The idea worked under the principle that by having it translated for them, they would remember the meaning of the words, and would, gradually with exposure to the language, be able to understand the languages around them. Would not tell the Sunnydalers of this yet; perhaps never if things worked as she planned.

She had arrived today with a chariot full of dwarves from Citadel Adbar. The dwarves loved the idea of a locomotive and wanted the plans for themselves. When she had told them, Sunnydale had a working example they had practically tumbled over one another to get the chance to fly with her. Alustriel had made sure to have the dwarves who flew with her land on the "airport." It was an odd idea, but still good in its way, a strip of land, specifically dedicated to air travel, complete with buildings to house the flying creatures. She would have to consider one for Silverymoon, if Sunnydalers were to ever visit. As an entourage, the dwarven ambassadors brought a flight of giant eagles with dwarven riders to perch on the mountain rim around Sunnydale, much to the surprise of the soldier patrolling the area. The dwarves had dismounted formed up and saluted the soldiers. The salute, to any outsider, appeared to simply be quaffing a large mug of beer in one gulp and holding the stein to their foreheads. They then poured more ale and managed to get stinking drunk in a matter of hours. The giant eagles crowed softly in embarrassment.

The Adbar ambassador had not ridden the eagles, but had instead ridden with Alustriel and had landed outside the mansion. A section of grass had been dubbed the landing strip as it had been permanently scorched by the chariot. The Scooby Gang was waiting for them as had been the usual. The new plan was for afternoon meetings because of school. Giles and Joyce had been quite strict on that. Interestingly enough, they had been dragging Drizzt along as well.

"Ah, you must be Delwid Axegrinder," Giles said, extending his hand. The dwarf shook it. "These are my associates: Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris and Drizzt Do'Urden." As was usually the case, the dwarves shrank back at the sight of the dark elf. Ignoring their hesitation, Giles escorted the dwarven gentlemen inside, but one would not budge.

"I'm not for moving when there be a stinking Drow here," the dwarf said. Drizzt sighed inside.

"Look buddy, you might be a big fuzzy pants up where you live, but right now you're in Sunnydale," Xander said from beside Drizzt. "We have rules against talking like that. There are these things called Civil Rights and everybody has them: me, you, Drizzt and even orcs. So lay off." The dwarf glared at Xander for a long moment before storming into the building.

"Big Fuzzy pants?"

"It was the first thing that popped into my head," Xander explained with a shrug.

"Well, you two big fuzzy pants should get inside so we can do our diplomacy thing," Willow said with a glare. The two males quickly went inside so as to not be confronted with the dreaded resolve face.

Inside the dwarves were sitting on one side and looked perturbed. Giles said down in his usual spot, with Buffy and Drizzt on his left, and Willow and Xander on his right.

"Ambassador Axegrinder, before we begin, allow me to make myself perfectly clear," Giles said testily. "You and your entourage have diplomatic immunity. This prevents you from persecution from most criminal proceedings with a few exceptions: Murder, terrorism, espionage, and slavery. For these crimes you will be arrested and put on trial. You and your people may not kill anyone in this city or the outlying areas except in self defense. If you do claim self defense, you can expect a thorough investigation into the incident and we have expert inspectors who know more about crime than anyone else in this city. If you lie about self defense you will be found out."

"Is that a threat?" Axegrinder through gritted teeth.

"No I was simply advising you of your rights and highlighting the crime your staff seems most interested in committing," Giles said just as roughly.

"I do not intend any harm to you or yours Ambassador," Drizzt said, his hands far away from anywhere he could store weapons larger than a dagger.

"Well I'd never be trustin' word of a Drow any day," Axegrinder said.

"Now that we know where your bigotry stands, let us begin the discussion shall we?" Giles asked and commanded. Two of the dwarves gripped the table with white knuckles at the insult. "You want to build your own railway system. We have the plans and even a working model. We want it built."

"An' you be askin' like that?"

"To be perfectly blunt, yes," Giles said.

"We want a stable way of connecting the cities and moving goods from place to place all year long," Willow said. "You have had several bad winters these past years. With the railway we could deliver food and supplies when all other passes are along since closed."

"You could even build a railway in the underdark, connecting cities that way as well," Giles said. "The fact of the matter is you have the supplies and the workers to build the railway. We have technology. This can build a better, faster and even stronger connection between the cities of the north."

"You be givin' me three days and I'll be tellin' you me answer," the Ambassador answered after a long pause.

"Very well. Accommodations are in the building; you may choose any sleeping arrangements you wish. Perhaps we could outline your plans for a permanent Embassy when we next meet," Giles said politely. He then turned and left the room. The Scooby Gang followed suit and only heard him mutter under his breath something about "miserable, bigoted, alcoholic fools."

* * *

When Kellindil had told them of Drizzt's real age, comparing it to that of humans, they had been shocked at his prowess. He was very young for an elf. Elves, in the outward physical sense, mature almost as fast as humans. This is not true of internal biology or personality. Elves, although sexual expression was common in quite elves as young as thirty years old, they were not reproductively mature until well into their fifties, but could still produce children up until they died of old age. Socially, elves took much longer to develop, being not emotionally mature until passed their first century. Kellindil had guessed the younger elf's age within five years after having only spoken to Drizzt for a half hour.

Drizzt had been a loner for some time on and off in his life. There had been the crude facsimiles of friendship in Menzoberranzan but those had inevitably ended in tragedy. Then he had lived for five long years with only Guenhwyvar and the hunter for company. Eventually he had become friends with Belwar Dissengulp, the deep gnome he had helped take the hands from. The fact that his hands had been replaced by metal tools of finest quality had never taken away the guilt. Drizzt doubted it ever would. He had tried to find friendship with the Thistledowns and that had ended in tragedy as well with the barghests framing him for their murder. Now, with these humans who had taken him in, he was starting to fit right in, that is to say, as well as a lone Drow could fit into an inter-dimensional city populated by humans, vampires and demons. His hair and ears made him noticeable, but people were careful not to mention the color of his skin. To them he was just one of the many refugees who had been placed in the town. With all the many other students in the schools from Taiwan and Japan he had blended in somewhat.

Being about to converse with the people you live with certainly helps with that. The amulet allowed him to speak and be understood. Without it he felt more alone than his time in the Underdark: surrounded by people but unable to speak with any of them; it was like being a thirsty sailor on the ocean. The life he had longed for was still so far away. Finally Drizzt got the translation amulet. He was a person, a part of the society. But he still was not perfectly aligned even if he could be understood.

He was having a difficult time dealing with the concept of equal genders. He had been brought up in a strong matriarchal culture and early enculturation is a very hard thing to break. When something was happening, he naturally looked to Buffy or Willow, and then did whatever Xander asked when they said it was okay. It had generally worked out okay.

He told his new friends about life in Menzoberranzan and they had been predictably horrified. The constant sacrifices, the back biting and murder were parts of his history he never wanted to relive and he was glad to note his friends agreed. But people kept asking him about them. He had learned that what horrified people the most also seemed to fascinate them. His hometown was compared to the acts of the Nazis and some place called the USSR during the rule of Stalin.

In school his strong point had predictably been physical education. He was faster and stronger than many of the humans, despite their greater size. He had never seen a fat person before (as the fat were perceived as weak, which was the worst thing that could happen to a Drow) and had made the mistake of assuming a larger person was stronger than him. His weak spots were, understandably, human history, French (which was still a required course even when the fluent Sunnydale French speakers could be counted on two hands) and social interaction.

"You look like a girl with your hair in a ponytail," the fat boy had said. He had friends behind him who were also trying to look menacing. They all wore what Buffy referred to a jock jackets with the Sunnydale High colors.

"I am sorry for your confusion. I would have thought my lack of breasts would have made that clear," Drizzt said innocently. Xander, standing next to the dark elf, burst out laughing. "If you like I can show you to the biology lab where they have pictures to help you learn." Buffy had said that jocks were stupid, so Drizzt thought he should be helpful. Judging by Xander's increased laughter (and that of the wider group listening in), he had perhaps not understood the large person's statement.

"Your face is turning red. Is color change common in your species?"

More laughter and more anger from the jocks. The large man actually growled.

"I honestly do not understand why you are so upset. If you do not understand something I am perfectly willing to help you learn."

"There's nothing a pussy like you could teach me," the bully said.

Drizzt turned to Xander, not understanding the slang. "He is calling me a cat. I do not understand why that is a bad thing."

"It means he thinks you are weak because you have a broken leg and you're shorter than they are," Xander explained, trying to keep the laughter under control. Drizzt turned back to the jock and looked up into his face. With a shrug, he tripped the bully with his crutch, causing the jock to fall backwards, creating a domino effect which made the other fat tall people fall over. This caused even more laughter. The jock got up and punched the locker beside Drizzt's head.

"Johnson! I saw that! It's detention for you," Snyder called out from down the hall. The short little troll of a man strode up and pointed at the jock with his stubby little finger. "Attacking a guy in crutches. This is why you never won a game! The rest of you, back to class!"

Since there were no other schools to compete against, the so called "jock pass" had vanished. Where Snyder had once not-so-subtlety hinted at giving jocks a slide when they were failing, he was now doubling his efforts to keep them under control. No more would jock sports have full control over the school. Snyder was so busy with them, he hardly ever bothered the Scooby Gang anymore.

The four had a free period next which they, predictably, spent in the library.

"I am a little confused, you mean that everything I said to him was an insult?"

Xander smiles and nodded to the dark elf.

"Good."

"What is good?" Giles asked. The two looked up to see the others (minus Oz, who as a senior did not have a free period) already sitting around the table. Giles was looking at them expectantly.

"Oh, Drizzt here, just insulted Barry Jonson without trying. It was very classy actually," Xander explained, almost about to start laughing again. "Very high brow."

"High brow?" Giles and Drizzt asked for two different reasons.

"When Barry said Drizzt looked like a girl, Drizzt simply said he didn't have breasts so it should have been clear. Then he volunteered to take them to the bio lab to see the pictures of the differences between men and women," Xander was grinning widely. "Then Drizzt tripped the lot with one push of a crutch."

"Then Principle Snyder saw Barry punch my locker and gave him detention," Drizzt said finishing the story. "So what are we doing today?"

"We have a meeting with the Brachen Clan and then we need to head to the mansion because Lady Alustriel is bringing the Adbar ambassador. She has to leave immediately afterwards so I doubt we will be seeing her today," Giles explained. "After the Adbar meeting I would like to see what the archaeology department has found from the new topographic maps and photographs."

The topographic maps in questions were newly created using an aerial photography camera mounted on a plane. When there were threats from city hall that the airport and everything on it would be placed in control of the military, local business owners quickly decided it was best to help than lose every thing. The military had the maps for weeks now and the university had used them and the original photographs to determine where archaeological sites could be and what size they were.

"Afterwards I think we shall have an early dinner and assist Buffy on her patrol," Giles finished. Drizzt was still not used to Giles giving the orders when Buffy fought. It was all rather backwards to him.

"Any big bad on the horizon?" Buffy had been itching for some action for some time.

"Not that I can tell. The demon population has quieted down considerably since the hellmouth no longer exists here," Giles said as he shelved some books. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Xander and Cordelia make some rather poor quality excuses and vanish into the stacks. He pretended he hadn't noticed. "Though this quiet rather has me worried. Why, the vampire are hardly even making neophytes anymore which suggests to me that many have moved on."

"So a long trip for the slaying summer season?"

"Well, perhaps," Giles said with a slight smile on his face.

* * *

Menzoberranzan is a dark and terrible place, even for the people who ruled there. For a race of people who should be easily living seven hundred years old, the average age was barely 200. The Drow made up only a fraction of the population, but enslaved the rest which consisted of thousands of humanoids of various races and backgrounds. Members of these slave races were lucky if it reached fifteen years.

At the same time Menzoberranzan was a city of extreme beauty and extravagance. The ruling Drow praised Lloth in all her forms and every inch of the House compounds illustrated this. Spider motifs were displayed on everything from floor tiles to the handles of spoons. The unfortunate part was that an average surface resident would constantly be lost in the darkness. Most of this beauty could not be properly enjoyed unless one could see in the infrared spectrum.

Unlike most cavern and subterranean species of Earth, many Faerunian species had evolved the capability to see further down the spectrum, allowing them to keep their sight. This brought forward the disadvantage of blindness in bright light that only time could cure. This was both a blessing and a curse to the Drow.

It had been twelve years since Drizzt had left the city. It had been four since the destruction of House Do'Urden. They had lost the favor of their capricious goddess and the First House of Baenre had chosen to destroy them. It was now a taboo word in the city that lived in the present, ignoring those who could not keep up. Only two Drow nobles were known to have survived the attack: Drizzt's sister Vierna and Dinin, Drizzt's elder brother. Vierna had been adopted by the first house and was steadily being manipulated. Dinin had joined up with the notorious mercenary band known as Bregan D'aerthe.

Vierna had secluded herself for her prayers and reverie. It was the only time she was alone and the only time her memories and doubts treaded on her mind. In here, she wondered about her brothers, her only blood kin left, and what they might be doing. She had seen Dinin several times when he escorted Jarlaxle to House Baenre, but had never been allowed to speak to him. In the eyes of the Drow law, they were not longer siblings and there was no reason for them to speak.

Here, in her seclusion, she longed to be with her brothers, for the security she had felt as a child. In her unconscious mind she wondered if she could have made the same decision as her little brother, escaping to the Underdark and the lands beyond. She wondered if she could have made a similar choice to Dinin and become a landless, houseless mercenary. Could she have made a different choice?

She could not answer.

Trouble was brewing, as it always did, and she knew she could die as soon as anyone else in the city. Sooner than many.

Here, she knew Matron Baenre was manipulating her, but it was something she buried so deeply that it was never a conscious though. Especially with a mind reader like the pet Mind Flayer hovering so close to the old hag's ebony chair. Her mind was not her own when that thing was around. Here, enclosed in stone, she was protected and allowed her thoughts.

Her eyes fluttered open, her reverie finished for the day. It was time for her prayers. She knelt before a black altar, covered in spider webs and blood. She began her prayers, as she always did, with a hymn praising the Spider Queen. She then after several other hymns telling of the past of the drow and their growing power over the centuries. She then felt the power of Lloth's divinity rushing through her. Then, in her solace she heard a voice speak. "Vierna." Opening her eyes, she saw a Handmaiden sitting on her altar. It was not a beautiful sight. With tentacles and mouths in the wrong places and a body resembling a deformed boneless lump, the Handmaiden was a terror to behold.

"Greetings oh great servant of Lloth," intoned Vierna with reverence, bowing completely so her forehead touched the cold stone floor.

"Greetings, priestess," the creature said in that deeply disturbing voice all Handmaidens had. "I have come here to tell you a message. The Rogue Drizzt Do'Urden still lives and thrives." Vierna's eyes grew wide. The search for her brother had been cut off when the rite of Zin-Carla had failed and nothing had been heard since, save for an unsubstantiated rumor of something to do with a Mind Flayer city far to the east. "The rogue-urg!" The voice was cut off for a second with a sound of pain before starting again. "Your brother lives now in the city of Sunnydale far to the east. Close your eyes and think about him. You can feel his presence closely, you know he still lives. You will find him. Take your other brother on the search and House Do'Urden will be once more."

"Yes oh magnificent one!" Vierna did not look up, but bowed in prayer and reverence to the servant of her goddess.

"Go and tell Baenre what I have relayed. They will give you support," When at last she finished her prayer, the creature was gone from her altar. She quickly ran to the Baenre throne room to plead for assistance.

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	13. Chapter 13

Dr. Amelia Chung was excited, after a month of treatment and blood tests, it was time to remove the stitches from the giant's legs. They had become close friends when the giant woman had finally understood that she was only trying to help.

Keeping the giant woman and her two children a secret had lasted perhaps two days. The press had started slipping in the compound and photographed the woman repeatedly. As long as no one came near her children the woman was fairly amicable.

Dr. Chung's mind wandered back to the day the translation amulets had arrived.

"I am Gara of the Graystone Clan," the giant woman had said, pointing to her chest. "My children are Fior and Firoa. I must thank you for healing me."

"My name is Dr. Amelia Chung and I am very sorry for what happened to your family," and she meant it. Gara had proven herself as a noble person the moment Dr. Chung's intent on healing had been understood. The giant woman knew no evil people would have let her keep her children or even fed her. It was a great tragedy that the language barrier had caused such a terrible problem between their two peoples.

Afterwards they had spoken frequently about their two cultures. The stone giants had a strong love of the arts. Gara herself was a painter and after a couple of weeks, Dr. Chung had arranged for paints, a specially made long handle brush, and a roll of paper from a local art supply store. The giant woman was amazing. The art was not primitive as many would have expected, but graceful and bold. She did not worry about realism, but bent the subject to the needs of her painting. With it, she painted the story of her clan.

Long, long ago the Graystone clan had been just one of a scattered bunch of families who were not unified in any way. They had come from the south following the herds of buffalo, Rothe and Mammoths generations and settled in the mountains. There they tamed the beasts and herded them, using them for clothing, food and steeds. Then came the orcs. They attacked the herds, killing and taking what they wanted from the stone giant families. Brothers and sisters died by the orc axes. Together, the clans banded together and fought back the orcs. When the orcs had been pushed far up into the mountains, the families had become a nation. These giants fought the dragons and held the land, but it did not last. The dragons returned and brought with them slaves who could control the most dangerous magics. The Giant Nation could not survive the attack and scattered once more.

The Graystone clan had stayed in the mountains and survived human empires that could live in the sky on flying mountains. They stayed hidden and kept quiet. Later the humans crashed to earth and the orcs returned. The Graystone Clan, much smaller than it once was, could only fend the orcs off and could no longer chase them from the mountains. And that brought them to now.

* * *

"Gara, we should tell your family that you have survived," Amelia said as she checked the giant woman's pulse. It was regular for her.

"I do not feel that is a good idea. My clan does not like having its territory invaded. We have enough problems with the orcs and fire-bringers and the elders fear making more enemies," Gara said as she pulled a baby up to her breast to feed.

"What are the fire-bringers?"

"They are fearsome creatures from beneath the earth. No one knows where they have come from, but they have killed many of our kin. They come in many shapes and sizes but their leaders are the worst," Gara explained. "They are nearly as tall as our people and carry swords and whips made of fire. They can call others of their kind and delight in pain and suffering."

"They sound like demons. Perhaps we could help protect your people," Dr. Chung suggested as she jotted something down on her patient's chart. Gara giggled at the thought of the elders accepting help from such little creatures. Little mannerisms like these reminded Amelia of her friend's age. Gara was young by her people's standards, only 157 years old and her children, still infants, were only two years old and almost the size of a small adult human. Amelia had been very surprised to learn giants could frequently live 800 years and 1000 was not unheard of.

"I do not know if they would believe you could help," Gara said with a honest smile.

"But what about Buffy? She is supposed to fight demons after all," Amelia noticed Gara tense up. She smiled and rested her tiny hand on Gara's massive finger. "I know you are still upset, but Buffy had no way to know you only wanted to scare them off."

"She killed two of my family. It is not an easy thing to forget," the giantess said tersely. She switched babies at her breasts.

"It is easy to place blame, but sometimes the hardest thing to do is forgive and never forget," Amelia said. "I have to go back to the hospital, but I wanted to congratulate you on your fast recovery. Your wounds look good. I think we can take the stitches out in a couple of days. We could have you up and hiking home in a month after that."

Gara's smile was honest and hopeful.

* * *

Lord Manshoon was not a foolish man. He was the most powerful man in the Zhentarim, the founder of the organization and the one who cemented the ties with the Church of Bane. He was one of the great wizards of the realms. He saw a potential ally in the new political power of Sunnydale. They had no king; no unified religion who could thwart his plans. Even members of the same political faction were at odds with each other. It was a pawn nation.

He had scryed the area ever since word of the devastation had reached Zhentil Keep. His messengers spoke of entire merchant caravans being destroyed in the blink of an eye, with only a few lucky survivors. The mages, save for one, had all been killed instantly. The only message he heard was a garbled spell that mentioned something about a glowing city in a sea of destruction. The mage was promptly killed by some hungry creature cutting off the message. Annoyed by the foolishness, Manshoon had sent commands for another team in a nearby area to investigate. The result had been the discovery of a slice of land perfectly situated in the Nether Mountains.

The city was no doubt extra-planar in origin. No city with that level of technology. Anyone with the capability to make those flying machines would have explored the world by now. They were not magical, though there were some very strong magical auras in that city. Powerful artifacts, he had no doubt, were buried in that town, just waiting for someone to use them. Waiting for him to use them. Smiling under his mask, he summoned a seasoned minion to take care of the problem.

"Send a team to this new town of Sunnydale," Manshoon commanded. "Do not let them become too enticed with Alustriel's cronies. You will need some means of communication with them. Speak to the Black Cloaks and see what can be done. Infiltrate their power structure, find the weak points. You shall use this to our advantage."

"Yes my Lord Manshoon," the minion saluted and turned to walk away.

"Oh, and Peris?"

"Yes, milord?"

"If you find any Harpers, enthrall them first, but if that doesn't work: kill them. Make it messy."

"Leave a message, understood milord."

Manshoon left Peris to his duties. How would Sunnydale be best controlled? Would an open arrangement be best? A clear partnership with Zhentil Keep? With his scrying he knew what they needed. They needed building materials; they needed clothing; they needed food. The question was how to best use this to control the city? Should he have a team poison their crops? This would make their situation much more dear, and they would need additional help. Or should he give them crops with a promise of reciprocation later on? It would take time to decide upon one choice. Better to find as much information as possible before making a decision.

* * *

Angel had been avoiding Buffy and her friends since Acathla. His guilt was too strong, too horrific for him to allow himself the pleasure of being in her company. He had kept his promise and watched his child and hers like a hawk the entire time, keeping them from too much trouble. They had not killed anyone (that he knew of), even if they had hypnotized a few nighttime stragglers.

In this time, he had been thinking about everything that had happened. He had been out wandering one night when he had run into Drizzt practicing his sword play even with a broken leg. Angel had stopped to watch the elf practice. Angel was a good swordsman, but Drizzt Do'Urden was more than a master by human terms. This had happened one night, then another and another.

"I have seen you watching me every night for the past few weeks," Angel jumped, hearing the dark elf's voice from behind him.

"Don't sneak up on people like that!" How in hell hadn't heard a guy in crutches come up behind him?

"Forgive me. It was not my intent to alarm you," Drizzt said with an expressionless face. "I wondered why you were here so often. Perhaps it is because of her?" Drizzt pointed over his shoulder to Buffy's room. Angel's shoulders sagged.

"Yes, I came here to speak with her."

"Then why do you always stand around? You never go beyond the yard," Drizzt said, motioning to the edge of the grass. "You hide in the shadows instead of talking to her."

"It's-it's too hard to talk to her."

"I hardly think it is. Usually you just open one's mouth and speak. Even children can do it." Angel, momentarily shaken out of his broody funk, looked at the dark elf with a wry smile.

"That was a joke, wasn't it?"

"I suppose," Drizzt smiled, shrugging his shoulders and carefully keeping the smile from his face.

"I've been watching you practice," Angel said, changing the subject. "You're incredible with a sword."

"It's my father's gift," Drizzt said with a shrug. "He gave me the talent and the skills. A broken leg should not be an excuse to lose them."

"What was it like living in an underground city," Angel asked suddenly. Drizzt was not really surprised by the question.

"What is it like living in a surface city?" Angel laughed at the question, suddenly realizing how foolish he sounded. Drizzt sheathed his wooden practice swords. "I've lived in two underground cities. I assume you mean Menzoberranzan?"

Menzoberranzan fascinated almost every Sunnydaler who heard of it, but it was fascinating in the same way that Nazi Germany or the USSR under Stalin were fascinating. The horror intrigued like few things could. Angel nodded. "Living in the city of the drow was like living on a knife's edge, one slip and you could wind up dead. In some respects it was more dangerous than living in the wilds of the Underdark."

"But what did it look like?"

"Think of spiderwebs everywhere and no lights and a dagger around every corner. That will give you a good idea," Drizzt said as he leaned against the tree to rest his leg. "It is more beautiful than I can describe, but it's a place I barely escaped from."

"Sorry. I just wondered what kind of place would develop a twin sword style like yours," Angel said apologetically.

"Ah, that is House Do'Urden, where I was born and raised," Drizzt said simply. "My style is actually one developed from my father's style which was then based on the style taught in the Academy. Twin sword styles are not uncommon in Menzoberranzan."

"They were very uncommon on Earth," Angel said, taking a seat next to the dark elf. "The more common style was sword and dagger. When I was a child almost everyone of a certain level of society learned sword play and everyone below it was forbidden."

"It is not uncommon for that to happen in Menzoberranzan either," Drizzt agreed. "If you are not one of the Houses, you were a slave and no one wanted a slave uprising. It's one of the many things, I never realized about drow society that I can look back at and see what's the what."

"It sounds like you've been spending too much time around Buffy," Angel said with the same wry smile as before.

"I apologize. I am not used to speaking your language," Drizzt apologized. Angel smiled and put up a hand to stop him.

"No, it's not your fault."

"Actually, I think I rely on the amulet too much," Drizzt said, holding up the item for Angel to see. "I don't learn the language with this. What happens if I loose this? Or if it is destroyed? I am behind in my classes because I use this to talk to people at home. Other people do not have the same kind of choice and so they are much more fluent than I am."

"Then stop using it," Angel said with a shrug.

They continued talking every morning after Drizzt finished his meditations and sword practice. For nearly a month Angel came and spoke to the dark elf on all sorts of topics. One of the topics they returned to was conversations about their homelands. One thing they had in common was the power of religion in their respective cultures. The biggest difference was how that power was used. Angel shuddered to think what it was like living as a non-drow in Menzoberranzan. Such power in the hands of but a few priestesses… The raw power of these clerics had given Angel the idea.

It would be almost a week of deep brooding and consideration before he built up the courage to approach Buffy again, after avoiding her for so long. After some deep thought he knocked on Buffy's door. A very angry Joyce answered the door.

"You are not allowed near my daughter," her voice was flat and simmering with barely contained anger. Buffy had clearly explained the entire situation with her mother.

"After everything that has happened, I actually think that is a very good idea," Angel replied with more than a little regret in his voice. "But I need to speak with her."

"You are not allowed inside."

"I know and she doesn't have to come outside. I just need to tell her something," Angel gave the mother of the woman he loved a pleading look. Joyce Summers gave him a long silent look.

"Ten minutes, any longer and I'll set you on fire," she turned to face the stairs and called for her daughter. Buffy bounced down the stairs until she saw Angel standing in the open doorway. She slowed down, her mixed feelings playing out a roller coaster in her stomach.

"Hi Buffy."

"Hey."

"I wanted-I need to tell you something."

"Okay, shoot."

"I'm leaving." He said it. Buffy's face was stunned for a long moment before shifting to anger.

"What? You're leaving?" Buffy stepped through the door way and punched him across the mouth. "You ignore me for a month after getting your soul back after months of hell on Earth with you torturing everyone you know and now-" Angel opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "No, you don't get to talk. And now, you tell me you are leaving. Do you have any idea of how pissed off I am right now? No, you can't possibly have any idea. You can't possibly know how terrified I have been since that night. The idea that you could kill any of my friends at any time froze me more than once. I'd wake up in a cold sweat when I remembered something or other and realize you could go here, or you could go there. And I couldn't stop you. And now you're leaving?"

"Yes."

"Where the hell are you going?"

"I've been talking with Drizzt."

"You're not taking him."

"No, but he told me about his homeland and the priestesses. About his father." Buffy had heard the story from the elf and knew how his family had killed his father and then brought him back as some dead thing. "I-a priest like that could help me." She looked at her vampire lover like he was crazy.

"You're crazy," she said. "Those priestesses were homicidal psychopaths, they won't help you."

"No, they wouldn't, but if they exist, there must be equally powerful priests and mages. I will find one who will help me," he was almost pleading again.

"What about Spike and Drusilla?"

"They will be coming with me," Angel replied. "It's my fault they're vampires, so they are my responsibility. They deserve to have real lives."

"They're both killers."

"So am I."

She just looked at him for a long moment. And then she slammed the door in his face. As he was turning to walk away the door opened again. Buffy grabbed his head and kissed him hard.

"Now go. I don't want to see you until you are better."

"Buffy I-" The blond girl had already vanished inside and slammed the door in his face once more. Angel stared at the closed door in front of him for a long moment. "I guess I'll go."

* * *

Finally it was the end of the school year. There was not the same kind of ending that most years had. The seniors knew they were staying in town so they didn't do the usual "BFF I'm gonna always call" kind of thing. There was quite a bit of grumbling about "I was accepted to MIT/Harvard/Yale/generic-other-fancy-school" or "I was like, totally, going to LA and becoming a movie star you know?" but it was mostly ignored by the greater populace of Sunnydale.

Oz had graduated first of his class as all the teachers had expected. Even Snyder congratulated him a moment before he snarled at someone for shutting their locker too hard. He knew is was going to be a difficult summer, but he had to go away. Ever since they had arrived in Faerun, the wolf had been getting stronger. He was not showing it, but he was more prone to anger and sometimes, when he was fighting down an outburst, he could feel the change almost there. His human sense of smell had increased to the point where he could track scents as well as any bloodhound, and the wolf senses had increased exponentially. He longed for raw meat and even felt the need to scavenge in the hills one full moon when he escaped from the library. There was little that could keep him contained there anyway. It was safer for everyone if he stayed away. If he ever intentionally called the wolf, there would be no going back. He knew it in his bones. Call the wolf and forever, would he be the wolf.

And that scared him more than anything in the world.

He knew everyone by scent now. Few if anyone, could sneak up on him. It gave him greater awareness of his surroundings. He knew who was a vamp and who was alive. He knew who carried guns. He could even smell magic on people. He was beginning to know the difference between casters and the ensorcelled. This was great. It had helped the Scooby Gang so much since they had gone through the Shift.

But now he looked at Willow like she was food.

Oz new he could not stay. He had to leave and find a place where he could control the beast. And if he was going to leave on good terms, he would have to leave soon, before the next full moon.

School was over for the year. That night had been filled with celebration by many of the students, as it always was, but for Buffy, it was the night that Angel left Sunnydale, dragging his two vampire offspring behind him.

She had refused to see him ever since that night. And she discovered it was not nearly as hard as she initially thought. There was a profound sense of relief. It was like she could finally release a breath she had been holding for months. Angel's exit was noticed by the rest of the Scooby Gang, even if Buffy never spoke of it. She was more relaxed, happier, less over protective of friends and family. She was even more attentive in meetings and discussions. Everyone was hoping this summer would be as uneventful as the last so the healing could begin.

It was Tuesday again, and this meant the weekly update from City Hall. The messages had helped coordinate efforts better than running around. The weekly speeches also gave the decisions a greater level of credibility than a simple press release. It allowed people to see the faces of the people who organized everything. Assistant Deputy Finch released information to the press on a regular basis, but he was not as well received as Richard Wilkins III. Here was a friendly face, a person they knew was working towards their best interest.

"Hello, Sunnydale," He said, beginning his speech as he always did.

"Citizens of Sunnydale, as we are at the end of a school year and the start of what would normally be summer vacation I feel that I must deliver some disappointing news to all you school children. Summer vacation is canceled, effective immediately

"After much deliberation, it has been decided that all citizens age of 14 and older will required to work for the good of the whole. This is alarming to many people; some of you will even consider this an infraction on your civil rights. In this dire time we need all workers we can find. We have massive amounts of work to get done.

"We have nearly 4000 refugees who are looking for homes. To accommodate everyone, we have to build or repair almost every building in the city. We need to rebuild many houses which were not designed for cold winters. Those of you without heating will need to have some sort of central heating system installed by winter. Thousands could die if we fail to reach our goals.

"We have nearly 42,000 people in Sunnydale, mouths to feed and little in the way of agricultural land to feed them. We need to develop farming techniques for the mountains and we need people to farm. Once again, if we fail, we could have thousands die.

"When John Smith arrived in Jamestown, he discovered a clear class divide between those who worked and those who lived high on the hog. He used a biblical quote as motivation; and to paraphrase: 'If you don't work, you won't eat.' Now, I do not plan to be so severe, but my sentiment was much the same. If you refuse to help the greater good, if you choose to take advantage of people working towards the greater good, you shall be punished to the full extent to the law. Criminals will be put on work gangs. No one gets a free pass.

"Please remember these are only two examples of the many areas we need workers. Most of these work details will also include on the job training and/or college credit for the future.

"I have several other announcements to make as well. The first is my declaration of Citizenship in Sunnydale to anyone who arrived with us from Earth. They are now guaranteed the same rights as anyone who lived here before, and are required to follow the same laws. I do not care if they were here illegally before, they are legal citizens now, fully protected under the law.

"This does not include anyone who might choose to emigrate to Sunnydale from another part of this new world. They are required to follow the same procedure as would anyone wishing to emigrate to the United States. This is regardless of where they originated, be it one of our allies or one of our enemies, should we make them. I refuse to allow us to be taken over by another power.

"In two weeks the Military Tribunal shall begin against the orcs who attacked our recon teams the day after we arrived. After much deliberation, we have decided it is best to treat them as enemy combatants and give them due process of law. They shall have representation as would anyone else and translators to make the process as clear as possible. This has been reviewed and agreed to by the Sunnydale Civil Liberties Union. No photography will be allowed within the tribunals, however specific press passes will be issued for the proceedings.

"We have finally made an agreement with Citadel Adbar in regards to the Sunnydale Railways, commonly known as the SunnyRail Accords. They will supply the raw materials and half labor while Sunnydale will supply the other half of the labor and add our engineering expertise to the project. The eventual goal of the SunnyRail Accords is to make a unified transportation system across the North for supplies, trade, and travel. The first railway will connect Citadel Adbar and Sunnydale. After this we will share ownership of that railway. Any other routes will be renegotiated at a later date.

"This brings me to another issue. Many of you are concerned that we are relying on others far too much; that we are giving up our independence too easily to other powers. I agree with this to a point. Yes, we have given away some of our isolation and perhaps a slight bit of our independence. Unfortunately we did not have any choice if we are to survive the year. This nearby nations are willing to give their support for rather small returns now.

"These nations have no hold over our government. They have no hold on our economy either, save for the debts we incurred when negotiating for supplies. We have plans in place to alleviate Sunnydale of this debt that will not put us in a place where we need to fight on their behalf.

"In other orders of business: We are working to formulate an emergency plan for the entire town. There will be a round table discussion tomorrow in the Sunnydale High gymnasium to discuss the proper implementation and planning. Anyone interested should arrive there at noon. The meeting will begin at 1:00pm.

"There will be a meeting at noon in the Liberal Arts Hall at the University to discuss the future of the Watchers' Council. Rupert Giles, Sunnydale's only resident Watcher, will be looking for people interested in the organization and will be taking applications for employment. The Watchers' Council is an organization dedicated to the wellbeing of society and protection against supernatural threats. He is looking for researchers, spell casters and other similar skills.

"Here at City Hall at three o'clock, we will be holding a housing discussion. This is intended to be a brainstorming session to plan the future of Sunnydale, including the look and growth of the city. Anyone interested should arrive and sign in with Deputy Mayor Finch who will be leading the discussion.

"There will be a recruitment effort with the Sunnydale Military. Our military, which we have decided to refer to as the Sunnydale Self Defense Force, is looking for people who are willing to dedicate their service to our City. The Sunnydale Base will be conducting their recruitment drive all day tomorrow. This is open to people ages 18 and over. You will be given food and water on a regular basis, as well as special training and educational courses.

"Thursday, at Eight PM, there will be a show highlighting the new world and climate we now live in. Please tune in to discover more about this new continent known as Faerun and what we need to do to live here. It features footage of our local area as well as maps given to us by our neighbors. Scientists and specialists will be discussing where we stand in our new world.

"This is an important time for Sunnydale, a time which could make or break our entire existence. The only way our city will survive is if we all pull together and become something greater than the sum of our parts. This means everyone, regardless of who we once were on Earth.

"Thank you, and good night."

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	14. Chapter 14

The broadcast was over for another week. Richard Wilkins the Third sighed and stood up from his chair. He glanced over at his senior advisers. "Meeting room. There are a few more things we have to discuss." When everyone had settled in Dick glanced around the room. His senior advisers were Colonel Hennessey, Maggie Walsh for science and the Initiative, Rupert Giles for the Watchers Council and International Affairs, Amelia Chung as medical adviser, Thomas Chaffer for economics, Nabiki Tendo as the multi-cultural specialist and Joyce Summers for Agriculture and Social development. Finch was there as a coordinator.

"We have a few changes that we need to make," the mayor said simply. "We need to streamline things so we have a more clear delineation of fields."

"Things have worked well enough so far, couldn't we just keep things the way they are?" This was Thomas (Tom) Chaffer, Cordelia Chase' uncle on her mother's side. He had been a banker and investor in LA before the Shift. Chaffer had been visiting his sister when the city was sent over.

"That kind of thinking is going to get us in trouble in the long run," Amelia Chung said. "We need to change with the situations, if we each have too many concerns we get bogged down."

"Agreed," the mayor said with a nod. "Which is why I would like you to resign as the Director of Sunnydale Medical Center."

"What?" Amelia's eyes almost popped out of her head. She didn't work this hard for so long just to lose it all.

"Instead you will be the general administrator for both SMC and SGH in your position as Surgeon General," Wilkins said simply. "Appoint someone in your stead. I need you to work more for the greater good. You will, of course, still be a doctor, you simply will be running the medical services for the entire city instead of one hospital."

"Oh, well that makes better sense," she said, settling back down into her chair. The mayor turned to the Colonel.

"I am promoting you to General and Chief of Staff of the Sunnydale Self Defense Force," Wilkins said simply. "This will prevent issues that might arise in the future."

"I never wanted to be a general."

"The decision is final. Promote from within the ranks for the missing links," his tone left no room for argument. He turned to Maggie Walsh. "I am removing you from the Initiative."

"ARE YOU INSANE?" Maggie Walsh was on her feet, her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles bone white. Every face in the room was staring at her, all shocked save for Wilkins. "The Initiative is mine! You can't just take it away!"

"I just did, and this outburst is proving I made the right decision," Richard Wilkins said levelly. "You are unable to continue as my science advisor and as head of the Initiative and as a full time professor at UC Sunnydale. You were able to do two full time positions, but three was draining you. You are much more valuable to me as a scientist and researcher than you are as head of the Initiative. The decision is final."

Maggie Walsh sat down and said nothing, but her face spoke volumes. Her expression was one of anger, outrage, and embarrassment, and turned all shades of red. After a long moment she took a deep breath. The mayor turned to Rupert Giles. "This brings me to you, Mr. Giles. I am handing over the Initiative and all its resources to the Watchers' Council. You have complete control over their training and use. I do, however expect you to coordinate with General Hennessey for military exercises." Giles, a little shocked, opened his mouth a moment before being cut off.

"You're giving it to HIM?" Maggie Walsh looked completely outraged. "He can't even keep his one soldier under control!"

"Buffy is not a soldier," Giles muttered bitterly, glaring at the woman. Maggie Walsh glared back. "And she doesn't need control."

"Yes, because Mr. Giles comes from an organization that has had thousands of years of experience," the mayor replied calmly. "And he is one of two people who Buffy Summers looks too for advice and direction. The other being her mother. You, quite clearly, could not deal with her in any way, shape, or form which would help our community. And finally, there is no need to have two demon hunting organizations in this town." He turned back to Rupert Giles. "Mr. Giles, you had a question?"

"If I am to lead the Initiative, this puts me at odds with my position as International Affairs advisor," Giles said, cleaning his glasses. "How can I be a treaty negotiator and head of a military organization? Those two positions are directly at odds with each other."

"Until I have a negotiator as skilled as you have proven to be, you will have to keep both positions," the mayor replied. "You have no other duties until school starts up again in the fall. These two positions should not be at odds until we have a significant increase in diplomats or demons; either of which should lower the number of the other arriving. And besides, the Initiative is already providing security for all our diplomats."

"When will this happen?"

"Mr. Giles, I would like General Hennessey to introduce you at ten tomorrow morning, that should give you plenty of time before the meeting at noon. It will give you a better idea of your recruitment needs as well. After this meeting the two of you should discuss the changeover.

"Well, I suppose that is for the best," Giles conceded. He was not particularly pleased at the prospect. He knew Buffy's status would ruffle edges in all the wrong ways. She could not be in the chain of command, neither taking nor giving orders. The other Scoobies would not be able to function the way they always did. This was going to be difficult.

"The other matter I need to discuss is our Police," everyone cringed at this. It was a topic everyone had avoided for a month because no one wanted to admit the truth: the Sunnydale police force was a farce. A bulging bag of incompetence, the chief of police had become bored with the meetings and had just stopped showing up. "Our entire police force needs to be rebuilt from the ground up. We need people who speak Chinese and Japanese fluently as well as English. We're going to need detectives who understand magic as well as they understand forensics. We actually need any people at all who know about forensics."

"With that in mind, I'll see if we have any police officers in the cruise ships," Nabiki said.

"If you don't mind me saying so, we have more needs than we have ways to fulfill them," Dr. Chung said grimly. "We are going to be very lucky to find professionals anywhere."

"Yes, I agree," Finch said. He had been talking more and giving extra instructions lately. "This is why we want everyone looking for people to join the police. After we have enough to replace the losses, we will reorganize everything from the top down."

"There is also the case of a few rogue officers," Giles put in. "At least one has a personal vendetta against Buffy and a few others. There is the general incompetence of the basic force. My suggestion is find qualified people for the upper positions and make the rest of them street officers."

"I'd actually argue against that myself," Nabiki said. "I haven't had experience with police forces, but I have experienced hostile takeovers. They can be messy and there are often harsh feelings afterwards. People don't always mesh well when those who used to be the bosses are at the same level as the basic worker. I think it should be slower, but steady when we reorganize. Personal evaluations, investigation in their attitude. Talk to people who dealt with the officers in the past."

"I have a few MPs who could take over. They are good men and women, but I think they would be better off as civilians," Hennessey said gruffly.

"We don't want to blur the line between the military and the police too much," Joyce suggested. "People will revolt if they think we are going the same way as the Nazis."

"I resent that statement," Hennessey said. "There has always been a strong connection between ex-military service men and women and the police."

"Sorry, I didn't say that right," Joyce conceded. "If people think we are controlled by the military tensions will flare. It won't be much different from the 60s. We need a visible division between the two."

"Now that I can agree with," said Hennessey with a nod.

"Good," Wilkins said with a simple grin. "I love it when brainstorming works. Oh, two last pieces. I need an educational advisor to oversee the University, the private College and the public school system. Try and think about a good choice."

"Not Snyder." Joyce and Giles said in unison, they glanced at each other and smiled amused.

"He's an utter troll who delights in targeting students, he is unsuited for the job," Giles said with an edge of bitterness. "He also thinks of his teachers as a Gestapo force against the students."

"I agree completely with that," Joyce said. "He seems unable to comprehend that the world is bigger than him."

"I'll take that under consideration," The mayor said with a grin, remembering the real reason for their animosity. "In the meantime, keep an eye out."

* * *

The newly appointed General Hennessey had just climbed into bed when the phone rang. The day had been meeting after meeting with what seemed like every person in Sunnydale. He knew there were only more days like this coming more often. With a grumbling sigh, he sat up in bed, slipping his glasses back on. Lifting the receiver to his ear he said: "Hennessey, what is the problem?"

"Sir, Team 24 has reported spotting a large number of orcs headed towards Sunnydale," his second in command stated simply.

"What's their ETA?"

"Five hours at current speed."

"Numbers?"

"Estimated at 800. They drag what look like primitive siege weapons," Hennessey said something very inappropriate in response to the news. "That was very inappropriate Sir."

"Yes, it was. Notify the Watcher's Council, I'll meet them in the war room," Hennessey set the receiver back down on the phone and took a deep breath. He stood up and lumbered over to the closet and dressed in one of his many uniforms. A minute later he was out the door.

* * *

Giles was asleep when the phone rang. He had been just exhausted and crashed on the couch, having not even had time to get undressed. His mind sleep addled, he reached around for the portable phone, only to realize that it was still on the charger across the room.

"Rupert Giles."

"Mr. Giles, Col-I mean General Hennessey is requesting the Watchers' Council be present at a war meeting in 15 minutes."

"Oh, Bloody Hell." Giles straightened his glasses. "Tell them I'll be there in twenty."

"Yes sir." The woman hung up. Giles pinched the bridge of his nose as he struggled to remember Buffy's number. It came to him after a moment and the phone rang and rang. After five rings Joyce Summers answered.

"Yes?"

"Oh, Joyce? This is Rupert Giles, is Buffy there?"

"I'll go see, she said she was going for a late patrol and then to bed." There was a clunk as Joyce set the receiver down. After a couple of minutes she came back. "No, she's gone. And so is Drizzt. His cast is tossed on the floor and he left his crutches behind."

"Oh good god." With a sigh, he took a deep breath. "Could you please tell her to call the base when she gets in? We're having a problem, but General Hennessey just requested the Watchers' Council."

"What problem?"

"I don't know. I'm going to get Xander, Willow and Oz for the meeting."

"I'll tell her," Joyce said. She paused for a long moment before she continued in a small voice. "Please look out for my daughter Mr. Giles."

"I will. It's what I was meant to do."

* * *

Hours after nightfall, Drizzt was wide awake and wary. He kept thinking about the report he had heard through the grape vine. Recon teams had found an extensive series of caves in a nearby mountain. If they had found caves this meant that some might connect to the Underdark. Sunnydale was almost equidistant between the Drow cities of Menzoberranzan and Ched Nasad. Even Drow avoided the great fungus that existed under the High Forest and so gave it a wide birth, adding much time and distance for travel between the cities. Travel that brought them right below his feet.

Shaking his head, Drizzt dearly hoped there would not be an incursion. These human soldiers were good with their guns, but they were no match against the stealth and cunning of the Drow. A gun, no matter how powerful and deadly, could only kill a target the wielder could see. A well-trained Drow team could take out their perimeter without the soldiers even firing a shot. They would notice the poison crossbow bolts far too late in the darkness. Using his natural vision and stealth, he slipped out beyond the perimeter to patrol the darkness where only one with eyes such as he could see.

"Come Guen," he watched as the fog flew out of the figurine and took shape, becoming his beloved panther friend. He scratched her chin and gave her a little hug, but jumped when he heard the noise from behind him. Spinning around, his sword was out and pointed at the intruder. It was Buffy.

"So that's where you keep the panther: she's magic," Buffy walked over and scratched the panther's head. Drizzt shot the cat a dirty look; even if he had not noticed the Slayer's approach, Guen should have warned him. The cat snorted in derision. "So you snuck out to look around?"

"I have been immobile for far too long," Drizzt replied. "I need to get back in shape."

"That's not it. You think there's something the guards can't handle and you want to see it," Buffy said flatly. "Or at least be able to warn them ahead of time."

"True, but why are you here?"

"Spidy sense is tingling," Drizzt did not understand. "Peter Parker? Spider-Man? Oh yeah. I keep forgetting you're not up on American pop culture. It's-I can sense things and something's gonna happen tonight. I can feel it. So I'm patrolling."

"You can sense when something bad is going to happen? And won't you be tired in the morning?"

"Yep I can, and I only need a few hours of sleep. It's a Slayer thing," Buffy shrugged. "I just knew the spidy sense was tingling and I had to be here."

"This Spidy sense is an impressive ability," Drizzt said. "So are your strength and speed."

"Sometimes. I was always stronger than the average human, but it's been getting more so lately. In my old world I could have never strangled a giant or fought that dragon," Drizzt could see his new friend was a little scared of her abilities.

"You have not told anyone about your fear have you?" She gave him a scared look and stared at him wide-eyed for a long moment before sagging.

"No, you're the first," Buffy answered. "I guess it's just easier speaking to another person who isn't human."

"…But you are human?"

"I'm not so sure anymore," Buffy said. They walked alongside one of the terraces built into the side of the mountain. "I'm so different from everybody else, not just strength and speed. I almost wonder if I'm as much a demon as those I fight."

"I can understand what you feel," Drizzt said after a long silent moment. "When I was living wild in the Underdark there was something that took me over. I call it the Hunter. I am at my physical peak, but I am little more than a beast. I feel it at other times sometimes. Once I became the Hunter in a crowd of children. Luckily I snapped out of it before I hurt anyone besides a statue. I doubt there is much difference between our situations."

"I guess even though we are different species we aren't that different after all," Buffy said with a sad grin. "Demons in mortal form."

"Perhaps that is not exactly-" Drizzt cut himself off in mid sentence. He held up a hand. Buffy glanced around them, her Slayer's night vision catching every bit of movement. With his keen ears the elf could hear someone off in the distance, just out of sight. He motioned Buffy to follow. Creeping forward, the three stalked forward and peered over the edge of the ledge. Far down the mountain was a giant spider, the biggest Buffy had ever seen. It was a misshapen form with barbs on the forelegs, and gobs of fowl saliva dripped from its fangs. She glanced at Drizzt. He was staring at the creature with complete horror. "Bebilith."

"What?" Buffy hissed the question trying to keep quiet.

"Spider demon," Drizzt managed to say. They knew he was here. He had to warn the soldiers, to get the people away. His fears from earlier that night were coming true. In a flash, his hands were on the hilts of his swords. Or where the handle was supposed to be. He cursed himself silently for not replacing the stolen sword after so long. Grimacing, he pulled the single sword out of the scabbard. He glanced around for the heat signatures of the Drow that had to accompany the demon. "My people have come for me."

"Go warn the soldiers. I'll take care of it," Buffy said with determination. Her hand was already gripping the emerald stake known as Mr. Pointy.

"Buffy, the bebilith is not something you can kill alone," Drizzt cautioned.

"Maybe on Earth, but I'm Super Slayer now. Now go!" She leapt up from their perch and cleared the next three terraces before leaping again, clearing the next three. The panther looked at Drizzt and followed the blond girl. Drizzt watched as the two heat signatures faded into the darkness ahead. The bebilith was pacing around a hole in the ground, clearly visible in the moonlight. Guen was catching up to the Slayer, but it would be some time before the dark elf could clear the same distance. He glanced at them once more before turning and running back to the soldiers.

Buffy almost flew down the side of the mountain, bouncing from rock to rock. She looked down at the spider demon, never letting it escape her gaze. A rock crumbled under her foot and all stealth was lost. The massive creature turned to glare at her with its eight glowing eyes. Shit. Faster than she would have believed the creature scrambled up the bebilith leaped up to her level. It was too fast. Unable to dodge, Buffy took a nasty claw to the gut. She went flying into a rock wall. Mr. Pointy wasn't going to help much. She rolled to the side at the last moment, a claw striking where she had been a moment before. Her skin wasn't pierced, but it hurt like hell. Bouncing to her feet, she struck out at its joint with a fist. It didn't react with pain, but instead knocked her off her feet once more. This time Buffy was too slow and the demon pinned her with a claw. Buffy screamed as the fangs pierced her shoulder. With her good arm, she stabbed Mr. Pointy into the demon spider's eye. It threw its head back with a roar. Even if Drizzt had not gone for help, the soldiers would have heard the ear shattering bellow of the bebilith echo off the mountain sides.

Guenhwyver appeared, finally having caught up with Buffy. The six hundred pound cat landed claws first on the demon's neck. Below, Buffy threw up on the ground, holding a hand to her shoulder to stop some of the bleeding. She was feeling ill and suddenly realized her shoulder was feeling numb. Somewhere in her mind she realized she had been poisoned by the venom. A brief thought passed her mind about being bitten by a radioactive bebilith a moment before the demon attacked again knocking her across the clearing.

* * *

The war room was just another room in the base. It looked like any other and it was in the process of being outfitted with everything a war room needs. The process was about half finished and wires were splayed all over the place, although most of them were not yet connected to anything. Monitors and computers, using the latest in military software had been set up to help a small team of people organize and direct any defensive or offensive action.

As General Hennessey strode in the officers instantly went to attention and saluted. Lieutenant Louise Gardner, the blond recruitment officer and Hennessey's personal aid, greeted the newly appointed general formally. "Congratulations on your promotion General."

"At ease. Thank you Lieutenant," he said with a nod. "Report."

"At 2248 Team 24 spotted movement into a nearby valley to the west," she reported dutifully. "After reporting the action, they investigated further and identified the movement as a large force of the species referred to as orcs. An estimation of their numbers puts them at about 800. After additional observation it was clear the force was marching directly towards Sunnydale. By the number of armaments and siege weapons it is clear they have arrived with hostile intentions. ETA four hours, forty-five minutes at current speed."

"Good work Lieutenant," Hennessey nodded in appreciation. "Do we have visual?"

"Not at present, sir," Gardner answered sharply. "The monitor is currently being installed and we should have visual in ten minutes. In the mean time I can show you their location on the maps provided by the aerial photography."

"Thank you. Send out a aircraft to get visual as soon as possible," he said before straightening his glasses and glancing down at the maps. "Now show me where these orcs are."

"Understood sir."

* * *

Drizzt, almost back at the perimeter, cringed when he heard the bellow. He knew something was seriously wrong. He bounded up the hill with the stealth and speed only an elf could combine. He was in luck there was a patrol right in front of him.

"Demon attack!" the soldiers turned to his voice. He recognized them as the team that had been fighting the orcs the day he had arrived in Sunnydale. Riley Finn trained his gun at the approaching dark elf a moment before he recognized him. They had been on alert the moment they heard the roar.

"Drizzt you aren't supposed to be outside the perimeter," Agent Finn cautioned.

"Too late for that. Buffy is fighting a demon down the mountain," Drizzt said glancing down the mountain where he had come. "I do not believe that it is alone, and a bebilith is not a feeble opponent."

Riley nodded once. He turned to the rest of team 3. "We go in fast and hard. Graham, sound the alert before we head in." He turned back to Drizzt. "Show us the way."

* * *

At the foot of the mountain Buffy was not having an easy time. The creature struck fast and often, but it had only bitten her once and she was still able to move. The poison was spreading and she was weakening every moment that passed. Guen's timely arrival had saved her life, but only for the moment. She had taken out one of its eyes, but it had seven more. She decided she needed to get away while the panther distracted it. Unfortunately, Guenhwyvar was only distracting it for a moment. The spider demon pointed its tail end at the cat and shot a web at the cat, entangling it on the rock wall. The creature turned to face Buffy and it knew she could not escape. It would savor this. The bebilith had not feasted on human in many years.

It threw another web, this time at Buffy, pinning her to the ground. Buffy struggled and tried to escape to no avail. She looked up at the spider demon and thought she was about to die. Instead the creature paused to glance back at the hole it clamored up from. Following its gaze, Buffy saw green-gray skinned orcs climb out of the hole bearing battle axes and torches. Each wore a strange, twisted form of plate armor with spikes over almost every inch. The bebilith made a noise of disgust. Buffy began to use pure strength to escape the webbing; it was working, but it would take some time. The strange hunch backed orcs growled something at the demon. She was too addled to understand their words, but kept trying to free herself.

Above the battlefield, the alarm sounded, and the strange orcs turned to look at the lights shining off the top of the plateau. They started charging up the hill with their axes in hand. With a final grunt of exertion, Buffy extracted herself from the webbing. The bebilith turned back to face her. Wounded, hurting severely, Buffy was not beaten.

"Hey web fangs! I killed your little sister yesterday, it was living in my mom's flowers and had to go," she gave a wicked grin when she realized it understood her words. She ran in the opposite direction, drawing the creature away from the site. It followed. Every so often she had to change directions to dodge the nasty claws. As time went on, she felt pain in her shoulder. That was a good thing. It seemed the poison had run its course and her Slayer healing factor was kicking in. If she managed not to get hit, she would be feeling better. The bleeding had already stopped.

She turned to face the creature. "Beetle-Bub! I'm thinking of having you stuffed and hung on a wall. What do you think, east wall or west wall?"

The spider demon attacked, missing her just barely. She suddenly realized that even if the poison was loosing its effect, she had not in fact healed the wound. She was moving sluggish and a single misstep could prove fatal. This demon was no idiot, the next time it attack, it struck out with both claws, forcing her to drop to her knees to avoid the attacks. A claw swung around, connecting with the side of her head, knocking her to the ground.

* * *

Drizzt saw the tanarukks before the soldiers. He drew his scimitar and leaped into the fray before anyone could stop him. He was at a distinct disadvantage fighting with only one blade, but it would have to suffice for now. The demon orcs were notorious even in the Underdark. Leaping out of the shadows, he slashed one across the face. Unfortunately the armor prevented his second strike from being a kill. His scimitar bounced harmlessly off the armor spikes.

"Drizzt, down!" even in the middle of battle, Drizzt leapt out of the group and hit the deck. From their position above, Riley Finn and others fired their guns. Two of the orcs went down out of the twenty, but several of the bullets bounced off the armor and the tanarukks' tough skulls. The group began to split up, terrified by the roar of the guns that had struck two of their number dead. Orcs or not, they were not as stupid as their mortal brethren and they split into two groups with the second charging for the stairs. Luckily for Team 3 each ledge was ten feet high and the trail was a good distance away. Drizzt got back on his feet and jumped towards the trail. When he was almost there, he spun around and blocked the way. "What the hell are these things?"

"Demon orcs," Drizzt called back. "Their hides are tougher than most armor. And they're wearing armor."

"Great, bullet proof cavemen," Forest grumbled as he fired repeatedly at the creatures.

"Sir, switching to Blaster," Graham said. The bullets weren't having the needed effect so he dropped his weapon and pulled out the other side arm. He aimed and fired. The blue energy bolt struck a tanarukk, and knocked it off its feet. Graham didn't wait to see if it worked, shooting everything in his sights.

"Seems to be working," Forest nodded, moving to switch arms as well.

"It's the metal armor, conducts a charge better," Riley said with a grin.

Drizzt was reaching his peak. Grabbing a fallen torch from a felled tanarukk, he used it to parry blows while stabbing forward with his scimitar. One, two, three demon orcs went down. There were still six to go. He did not even glance at the others, only the one in front of him. When that one fell, he fought the next. Drizzt started to slip away and the Hunter took over.

* * *

"Sir! We have reports from all over the city of orcs attacking!" General Hennessey spat out something no child should ever hear.

"Where did they come from?" There was no way they could have reached Sunnydale so quickly. The marching orcs must have been a diversion.

"From the sewers and the hole the dragon made," his subordinate answered, glancing at the reports.

"This is the last thing we need," he grumbled. "I want everyone up and armed now. We need to drive them back." He reached for the phone and dialed the mayor's number.

"Mr. Mayor, we have a problem…"

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	15. Chapter 15

The Hunter was in control and the tanarukks knew the odds had changed. They began to run, but the Hunter chased them down, driving his nasty scimitar into the bases of their skulls, one of their few weak spots the armor did not protect against. They were fools to not wear helmets. When the first twenty went down, the Hunter did not care and turned to face the reinforcements. These new arrivals had witnessed the battle and noted the dark elf presence. When they had gotten close enough, they held their torches high.

The Hunter leapt at the new threat, ignoring the streaks of blue that knocked a few of the demon orcs flat on their backs. At the very moment the Hunter leapt into the air to strike, the tanarukks activated their innate magical power, forcing the torch light into sudden brightness as dazzling as the sun. The Hunter, blinded, screamed and fell backwards. The orcs were on him in an instant and only the bursts of blue energy prevented them from chopping the dark elf to pieces.

"Keep them off him!" Truth be told, Riley knew he didn't even have to command it. Team 3 was the best performing team of the Initiative. They knew their job and they did it well. When Drizzt had cleared out the first group, they drove off the back stabbers and let him take care of himself. He had saved them from a flanking and they weren't about to let him fall. They had zapped enough so the orcs were falling back to the next terrace where they could have cover. These bastards were smart. Soon one poked its head out and an arrow went flying past Graham's head.

"I hate orcs," the soldier bemoaned. Retaliating, he fired back, but the orc was already gone. "Shit."

"We're in a stalemate. Where the hell are 4 and 5, they were supposed to be our back up," Riley was not going to be pleased. He watched as Drizzt pulled himself out of the pile of orc bodies. Good kid.

The Hunter was not happy. The enemies were out of sight, but not gone. Suddenly, his keen elven ears picked up the twang of a bow. With a simple flick of the wrist and scimitar, the Hunter deflected the arrow so it impacted on the hard stone behind him instead of the soldiers on the next level. From the other side he heard two more. He spun, collecting both arrows in the torch in his other hand. It was no longer lit, but it served its other purpose. He paused a minute and listened. There were many of them, at least forty. But he heard something else and the Hunter smiled. His old friend was returning.

The roar of a great cat echoed from below. And then a second cat roared. The Hunter was confused as his friend was only one cat, not two. As the two came into sight, the Hunter understood that his friend had found help in a strange human who fought like a cat.

The girl arched her back and hissed at the demon orcs. The tanarukks were confused by the display. One tossed an axe at the redheaded girl and howled in terror as the girl swiped her hand and let the pieces of the axe fall to the ground. Tanarukks are, as a whole, smart; they quickly decided survival was the better part of valor. Perceiving a threat, the girl chased them down, knocking them to the ground one by one. As they charged away, they met resistance in the form of a panther and a panda. This was not a good day to be a tanarukk. They turned another direction and saw the Hunter waiting for them. The demon orcs panicked, suddenly realizing there was no escape.

* * *

In the War Room things were complete chaos. The General kept listening to the reports and ordering his subordinates who sent things down the chain of command. When Giles strode in, Hennessey was visibly relieved. "Mr. Giles, please have a seat."

"What is the situation?" Willow and Xander sat down next to him.

"Where's Buffy?" Instinctively, General Hennessey reached for his ulcer medication.

"She was out on patrol when I got your call. We are not exactly sure where she is at this point," Giles admitted. Hennessey visibly slumped.

"This is a bad situation," Hennessey said grimly. "Thirty minutes ago one of our scouts spotted a group of orcs marching towards the city with an ETA of about five hours."

"How many orcs are we talking about?" Willow asked with a bit of fear.

"Numbers are estimated at 800," the general replied. "That was bad enough. But then ten minutes ago we got word from all over the city that they were already engaged by a different group of orcs and demons."

"Sir, Team 3 reports conventional weapons are much less effective than the Initiative blasters," reported one aid. "The local Drizzt is assisting in the fight with a sword. Agent Graham reports new wave coming in."

General Hennessey popped a ulcer pill.

"Giles! We should be helping Buffy!" Willow said with a scared look. "If she's out on patrol, she'll need our help!"

"Unfortunately, Buffy is on her own unless we could somehow contact her," Giles said grimly. "We do not even know her present location."

"What about Drizzt? They said he's helping," Xander said, a touch of protest in his voice.

"Xander, I am sure that Drizzt is more likely caught up in this and is in a place where we could not reach him," Giles argued simply. "We have fighting in almost every part of the city. These orcs have somehow managed to invade the Bronze even. There's no telling when either of them will be anywhere."

* * *

"You have to wake up Buffy. This isn't a test, this the real deal," Angel said. They were out having a picnic under a tree on a bright sunny morning.

"But I'm happy where I am, here with you," the blond girl replied, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

"But you're not here and they are going to need your help," Angel said. Buffy felt a touch of pain run up her arm and glanced at her shoulder, only then noticing the closing wound. It was healing right before her eyes. She looked back at Angel who seemed to slip away into the sudden mist. "This is only the beginning. Follow the tunnels!"

Buffy leapt up from the ground, a moment before her eyes opened and the claw hit her. A slayer dream when she was awake, well mostly awake. That was weird. Buffy never let her eyes vanish from the creature in front of her. The bebilith clearly thought it had her trapped. Buffy grimaced. 'This is going to be bad,' she thought. But the demon triggered something deep inside of her. A raging hatred she had only felt once before. She could feel Buffy going away. Mr. Pointy was forgotten in her hand, as were her friends and family. Gone were thoughts of Angel leaving town. Gone were her worries about Sunnydale. There was only the bebilith and the Slayer.

The Slayer charged. Surprised at the tactic, the bebilith stumbled backwards slightly. The Slayer grabbed a pincer and bent it back, triggering a howl of pain from the creature. She didn't stop. She let go of the pincer and began climbing the spindly limb, the strength of her legs preventing her from being thrown off. The chitin cracked under the pressure. Hand over hand, the Slayer climbed. The bebilith, no, the prey was scared.

The Slayer managed to reach the demon's eyes, flattening her palm out, she drove her hand into the eye blinding the first of eight eyes. The prey shook with rage and pain, loosening the hold the Slayer had on its head. Suddenly the Slayer was in range for its jaws. Biting hard, the prey felt the poison enter its opponent. It shook its head again, flinging the Slayer from its head. She flew through the air, nearly impaling herself on an expose outcropping. The Slayer ignored the pain.

The Prey turned to try and escape, flinging another batch of webbing a the Slayer, trapping her to the rock. It had worked against Buffy, but it would never work against the Slayer. She tore through the webbing like it was a curtain. The prey was getting away. Grabbing the closest weapon, the Slayer hefted a massive rock above her head, charging after the prey. She threw the rock like a track athlete would throw a discus. The red rock spun, connecting with two of the prey's legs, knocking the entire creature over on one side. The Slayer charged after it. She snatched a nasty sliver of the red rock and leapt onto the creature's back. Using everything given to her, the Slayer drove the red stone into its neck repeatedly, severing the head of the prey. Its connection severed, the prey attempted to leave the mortal plane, to return back to whence it came from.

The Slayer refused to let it leave. Breathing deeply, the Slayer inhaled deeply as the demon lost hold of its physical form, adding a piece of its strength to her own. Hefting the bloodied red jade spear in one hand, the Slayer wiped the demon ooze of her mouth with the other. It was time to hunt.

The orkish lesser demons sensed the change in their situation. Up until this point, they had been the aggressors; they had hunted and chosen to take the city and had been doing quite well. But that changed when they saw the Slayer. They had watched as a human, unarmed and unarmored, a small human, had obliterated the great demon. The Slayer stalked towards them, dragging the head of the bebilith in one hand and a slice of jade the size of a well-fed Halfling in the other. She dragged the head, which was larger than she was, with a disturbing ease.

Tanarukks are not foolish creatures. As orcs go they are inordinately smart, more so than any other sub-race. When the Slayer growled, they knew they were in the presence of a great power and they, with all their numbers, were nothing. When the Slayer looked upon them a second time, they surrendered, tossing their weapons away and falling flat on their faces.

The Slayer was bored. She wanted prey that would run. She liked chasing them. It was more rewarding than simple killing. The Slayer looked upon the cowering tanarukks with derision and ran off towards the sound of the not-prey, the sound of gunfire.

* * *

"How is she doing this?" General Hennessey was referring to the sudden shift in the attackers. Reports were coming in from all around the town of Buffy Summers, appearing, seemingly out of nowhere, and subduing the orcs with a large red rock. The problem was she vanished as soon as the tanarukks were beaten and arrived far too quickly at the next spot. Repeat as necessary.

"I can only assume she is tapping into her growing power," Giles replied, giving his glasses a good rub, "allowing her to run faster and hit harder than before. It is a dangerous tactic, but it has worked before."

"Mr. Giles, bullets bounce off these things and she is beating them with a rock," Giles shook his head. He understood the difficulty the General was having. The Slayer was outside the comprehension of a man who had lived his life within the defined rules of a military life. Giles hid his grin as the man popped another ulcer pill and grimaced, touching his side.

"Buffy is extraordinary, a very capable young woman," Giles said calmly. "I trust her judgment in these matters."

"Sir! We've lost visual on Ms. Summers," one of the soldiers reported.

"Keep a look out for her," the newly appointed general commanded. "You need to keep her in line. She is making it impossible for me and my people to do our jobs. After this we need to have a clear delineation between our realms of influence and command."

"I plan to transform the Initiative a fair bit so in the future we will not be stepping on so many toes," Giles said. Suddenly, he smiled as a thought occurred to him. "Perhaps we need a liaison?"

"Oh?"

"Yes, someone who has knowledge and experience to act as a go-between for our two organizations."

"I think that would be an excellent idea," Hennessey agreed. "Who do you have in mind?"

"Have you heard about the events of last Halloween?" the watcher asked with a wry smile. He was about to say more when he was interrupted by the man on the coms.

"Sir, we've spotted Ms. Summers again," the young man explained.

"Well where is she?"

"She's charging the orcs, sir."

"We know that," Hennessey said with a strict look.

"Not these orcs, sir, the other orcs, that were marching here?"

Both older men were up out of their seats with looks of rage and confusion. "WHAT?!?"

The Tanarukks had attacked almost every part of the city. They were in the Bronze, they were at the ports, they were even in the Sunnydale Mall and the residential neighborhoods. They attacked everything that moved from old ladies to children. After the soldiers deployed and started fighting back, the other greater demons assisted, clamoring up out of the sewers and electricity tunnels.

But the Sunnydalers weren't going to just sit back and take it. They drove cars into the demons, hit them with baseball bats and shot them with guns. It was a loosing battle. Tanarukks were bred for strength and toughness, trained from birth as fighters. Bullets could work, but unless one was a crack shot or had a powerful gun, the damage was minimal. Physical attacks were not working, and people started retreating behind the soldiers. People were afraid. Except for one thirteen year old boy.

He stood in the middle of the street as a small horde of the demonic orcs ran through his neighborhood. His parents thought he was dead when he had vanished. They had run to the safety of shelters, but Billy Palmer stayed behind. Because he wasn't afraid. He had already faced his greatest fear more than a year ago.

He stood his ground against the tanarukks, keeping a couple of other children behind him. They had been separated from their parents and hid until Billy brought them together. They were too scared to run when the demons sacked their way over.

The tanarukks stopped, suddenly cowering. It had been over a year and a half since Billy Palmer had been in a coma, and had overrun Sunnydale with the citizens' own fears. To his parents, that year and a half meant that he had over a year and a half to heal. To Billy, this meant he had over a year and a half to practice. It had taken him about three months to really understand what had happened. He remembered the dream world, where everything bad happened. He remembered Buffy, who fought even all hope was lost. Billy had complete control over his own fear. And he had been practicing control over the fears of others. In the month that he had lived in this new world, the power had been growing faster than it had before.

"Hi, I'm Billy Palmer and I'm thirteen years old," he said in a tone that would scare a normal person. The tanarukks could not understand the words, but they knew the tone. "I'm not afraid. Are you?"

Suddenly, the demon orcs were afraid. Terribly afraid. Their minds were trapped by their worst fears. Thagk-nag was being trapped by a cave-in. Falsh was growing old and weak while the other warriors were still young and virile. Gorgh was being eaten alive by a demon lord. One by one the tanarukks cowered and cringed, finally passing out under the strain. One's heart burst under the strain and died. Billy turned to the children behind him.

"Come on," he said, holding the hands of the children. "Let's go find your parents."

* * *

Larry was the only thing standing between his mother and the demonic orc that burst into the house. He had a difficult time over the past few months. He had been one of the skeptics, one of the people who just thought the Scooby Gang was a bunch of losers. He had been wrong, Halloween had proven that. He had become Larry the Pirate for a night, escaping the turbulent waters of gender and sexual identity in teenaged America. It would be a bit longer before Xander's talk helped Larry admit the truth.

Larry had been trying to live up to the ideal that his deceased father had lived by: the manly man, the kind of macho man his father had projected. Larry became a bully only to try and live up to that. After Xander talked with him, he had a revelation that he could be who he was, not who he thought his father was. So Larry had come out of the closet and found that almost everyone accepted him for who he was (with a few exceptions). Hell, Snyder had been nicer to him after that (which brought up some issues Larry was not sure he wanted to really get into too deeply).

But it had all started with Halloween. Like everyone on that night, he retained his memories of his other identity, the pirate. With that, he had retained a full talent for all things nautical and a good sword arm. But it was not enough.

He tried to fight them off with a fireplace poker, but the steel poker just bounced off the armor. As the tanarukk axe swung down, aiming cut him in half, he turned to his mother.

"Mom, run."

* * *

Nodoka Saotome had a difficult life after her son was born. Her husband had taken her son away from her, when little Ranma was only five. They had signed a pact that Genma would turn Ranma into a man amongst men. If he failed, they were both to commit seppuku, giving their lives for their honor. For ten years she had read their letters, never having seen hide nor hair of either her husband or son.

They had eventually reunited, but it was not easy. There was a bit of confusion because of a curse and a few engagement issues, but it was eventually overcome. The ten years that followed that were better, much better, as Nodoka became a grandmother. During all this time, from the day Ranma went away, until now, Nodoka had kept the family blade with her at all times. This is not to say that she is especially versed in its use, she simply carried it; first for if her husband failed and later because it had become habit.

Her life had been quite hectic considering everything that happened and the shift into this new world was not terribly difficult. Two families and their friends all living in one small yacht? That was more than a bit trying. Her family was building a new house using the local wood and things were working out well. So when the tanarukks burst out of the sewers and onto the docks, Nodoka was less than amused or pleased. She had been sitting on the deck with her grandchildren. There was no warning siren or cry of challenge, the demon orcs saw targets and charged up the ramp.

There was really no hope for them. Not when almost everyone related to the Saotome family was in residence. Only her son and husband were out and about. Her daughters-in-law marched up, fully armed, and made it perfectly clear why demons avoided Nerima like the plague.

* * *

Odd-Roar Torsen was Norwegian to the core. At 25 years of age, he had finished his mandatory military service and received a degree in archaeology from the University of Trondheim. He had worked for a short time in Svalbard before getting a job as a blacksmith for a living history museum and archaeological site in Borge in Vestvagoy. There he had learned sword-smithing, and, as an extension of that, had become very interested in sword fighting. He had learned some, but he was still a beginner. It had saved his life and the lives of everyone on board the Nord Lys cruise ship. Using a metal rod he found, he blocked the tanarukk axe with a lucky shot, but the strength of the creature sent him staggering backwards.

Kjesti Tyrsdatter was Icelandic on her father's side and Danish-Swedish on her mother's side. She had lived in Reykjavik and Fano at different times in her life, visiting her family. But the place she loved to visit was her great-uncle's home in northern Sweden. Here she learned from the 8th best axe caster in the world. He taught her how to throw axes with range and precision few could master. When the Norwegian had blocked the tanarukk's strike, he staggered backwards and fell, which had the effect of loosening the demon orc's grip. The double bladed axe flew out of its leathery palm, spinning across the deck to land at the feet of Kjesti Tyrsdatter.

There was only a split second of instinctual thought before the blond young woman hefted the massive weapon, brought it around her head, and swung it over her head. The axe spun end over end flying above the deck it had just skipped across. The business end of axe and embedded itself into the head of the lead tanarukk. The force knocked it backwards, knocking the orcs backwards. There was not nearly enough room on the slim walk way for the lower tanarukks to stand aside. Unable to resist gravity, the tanarukks tumbled and fell into Sunnydale's port waters. They struggled mightily in the waters, but their heavy plate armor dragged them down into its depths. Soon, only bubbles broke the surface.

Odd-Roar's chest was heaving with the excitement. After a moment he felt a hand helping him to his feet. He looked up to see his boyfriend taking him into his arms. Together they kissed, not caring who was watching.

* * *

There were other tales of tragedy and success from all over the city of Sunnydale. Some people lived. Some people died. And it was all watched by Kaanyr Vhok, the creature who had sent the tanarukk army. Kaanyr Vhok, a cambion, a half-fiend, resembled a half elf to most people. He had pointed ears, sharp almond shaped eyes and a small bit of facial hair he dutifully shaved. In truth, he was the offspring of a human and a tanar'ri, the most terrible class of demon. He had been alive for far longer than most would believe possible. He had been in control over the Scoured Legion for decades at this point and he, as did all his demonic brethren, hailed from beneath Hellgate Keep

The half-fiend had considered his options very carefully. He was not one to act rashly, preferring to play the long game of tanar'ri politics as opposed to dagger diplomacy. Here was a new city, full of promise, but tainted by the confusion of their extra planar transposition. If he waited, he could play the long game, but Sunnydale would have already consolidated its position. The demonic rumors said the city was very powerful in its own way. If he attacked too soon, he might provoke the attention of Hellgate Keep's other enemies. Fighting the combined forces of the north were not something he wanted to be forced to do, no matter what the upper levels of demonic politics said. The clincher had been when his own mother, the maralith Mulvassyss the Sceptered, had decided she wanted humans for breeding stock. She had a plan to make a new caste based on a combination of human and demon that would exist between the true demons and the tanarukks. He was not one to go against his mother, especially since there were plenty of others who could replace him.

And so the campaign against Sunnydale had begun. Kaanyr Vhok marched his army, which had become restless under the reins from the upper demon castes, along the closest underground route to the new city. Their movement had not gone unnoticed by the other denizens of the Underdark. An army of hundreds does not walk quietly for those who can feel the vibrations of the very earth. When the Scoured Legion marched, others scrambled out of its way. He had been given a contingent of other demons under his command. These he moved at a different pace and along a different route so they would not be tempted to eat his tanarukks. There was no love lost between the true fiends and their cambion commander.

They pushed at every constraint, grasping for every straw that could bring about the downfall of Kaanyr Vhok. One of these straws was Aliisza, Kannyr's alu-fiend lover. She was the offspring of a human and a succubus and had the powers of both. She could shape change into most humanoids, but she was as uncaring and ruthless and playful as any demon. She had been beside the cambion leader for years.

Where Kaanyr Vhok had russet hair and a slightly middle aged appearance, Aliisza was always in the form of a shapely young woman with lustrous black hair which occasional sported large leathery wings from her back. She fluttered down onto his perch with just the slightest sound, and, as she always did, she gave her lover the slightest peck on the cheek.

"So, leader of the Scoured Legion, how goes the battle," the alu-fiend said as she plopped herself into his lap. Her wings curved around them both, caressing his neck.

"Aliisza, Aliisza, always so ravishing and deadly," he said as he stroked her neck. She cooed like a pet bird. "It went well until a moment ago. We had broken many of their defenses. That vampire knew right where to hit them."

He referred to the undead monster he had apprehended and asked nicely with claws and pain. The vampire had sung like a songbird. It had given in far too easily. After that the fun was gone. He had staked the thing himself. Nasty little things, vampires. So easy to get that dust in your lungs and so hard to get it out.

"So what's the problem?" She bent backwards to emphasize her barely covered breasts and thighs. He deliciously stroked them to placate her.

"I lost a bebilith and a few tanarukks. These Sunnydale people are more resourceful than expected. Reports of their military expertise were not overrated," the cambion said as he pushed a strap off her shoulder. "When you tell the others about this, do so soon. Grakjinilith wants to attack me. I have not had reason to execute him."

"Oh, why would I ever betray my delicious leader, Kaanyr Vhok," Aliisza said with far too innocent eyes. The cambion kissed her roughly for a long moment.

"My dear, I love you, I want you," he said in a nasty, dangerous voice, "but I will never, ever trust you."

"Honesty is so refreshing, and I always did love your intelligence," she replied seductively, touching the tip of his nose with a finger tip. "Far, far beyond that Grakjinilith."

The two cackled evilly before stripping each other and succumbing to their desires.

* * *

Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.  
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.  
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.

Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast. 


	16. Chapter 16

In distant Zhentil Keep, the wizard and leader of the Zhentarim watched the erotic antics of Kannyr Vhok and Aliisza with little interest. His team was in place, watching the events unfold. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. He could not afford to have such a place be destroyed so suddenly. He glanced into his scrying pool again. He would not allow a demon to get his prize. He rung a bell on his work table and a near instant later a servant appeared, teleporting into the room.

"You rang, milord?" The tiefling, a human born of tainted fiendish blood, was a longstanding member of Zhentarim and a trusted companion, insofar as anyone in the Zhentarim could be trusted. He would be able to blend with the demons better than most other agents. He was also a talented wizard, and so could adjust the outcome favorably.

"Teleport to the Citadel of the Raven and open a portal outside of Sunnydale," he commanded, emphasizing with a slight gesture of his hand. "Join with Peris and the observation team. 'Save' Sunnydale by eliminating the subterranean threat, but do not enter the city until you are invited. Make them come to us. Show they what we have to offer and make them want it. They will be tense during these times."

"Playing the long game then I see?"

"It seems this would be the best method," the elder mage said, grinning under his mask. How surprised would the Cambion be to find his favored method used against him? He did not doubt that Kaanyr Vhok knew he was being spied upon. He had taken lengths to ensure the half-fiend would not be able to tell where the spell had come from and it was amusing to see the creature go to such lengths to pretend not to notice the scrying spell. "A platoon should be enough so long as you bring enough mages. Tanarukks are physically powerful, but as vulnerable to magic as most other creatures."

"I will remember that, milord. I've not forgotten that the same blood runs through my veins," the tiefling said with a shrug. With a quick salute the Black Cloak turned and strode out the room.

"I'll have a glass of the Red Shadowdale-1321 please, in the fine crystal," Manshoon said to his Unseen Servant. He did not even need to look as the invisible creation poured the wine and set the cup directly into his hand. Lifting his mask, the archmage took a sip of the fine red wine. "Ah, Shadowdale. A land I would enjoy the destruction of, yet I would so miss the wine."

He pulled a large tome off the shelf of his library entitled "The Planes and Their Inhabitants," before sitting down for a long read. He would need to learn more about these peoples before he went too much further. A heavy hand might work for the local cities, but if his estimation was correct, and it usually was, Sunnydale would react poorly to a military takeover. He could easily find their positions switched. He needed to somehow control the amount of information they received from the West and manipulate that which they learned from the east.

"Ah, here it is," he said aloud as he scanned the chapters. "'There was once a sister world to Abeir-Toril. There was much contact between them in the beginning, but long before the Time of Netheril contact became sporadic at best. It is believed that this world is the land from which the Mulhorandi god-kings originated. There are many other instances of peoples arriving in Faerun from other worlds. Not all of these are believed to come from the same world, but sages to hypothesize there is a certain commonality to many of them.' Interesting. I wonder what deities they brought with them this time."

It would most likely be some sort of engineering deity judging by their emphasis on the mechanical over the magical. They had achieved by mechanical means what only a few of the most skilled mages could achieve after a lifetime of training and research. Manshoon was more than a little impressed. After having observed some of their other practices, their military training, their educational institutions, he was very impressed. They had ideas and traditions that he was going to institute into Zhentil Keep very soon. What was that Sunnydale expression? Ah, yes "keeping up with the Joneses."

This was going to be an interesting era in the history of Faerun.

* * *

The Slayer was happy. She was on the hunt. The world flew by her as she ran. She leapt over logs and boulders, and dove behind buildings. She could smell the prey. They prey bellowed and tromped over the place, not noticing her in the shadows. Foolish prey thought they were the hunters. Four of the hunched prey tried to kill a family of not-prey and she burst out from the shadows. She grabbed the head of the largest one and twisted. The prey fell to the ground lifeless. One kick knocked the next on its back. A punch broke the nose of the third. The fourth ran.

The Slayer smiled.

Hours later, the hunched prey were chased out of the city or unconscious or dead. The Slayer could sense new prey coming close. Lots of new prey. Slipping into the shadows, the Slayer hunted. It would not be long before the slayer reached the new prey. She felt a little something in the back of her mind. Buffy. That weakling. She-who-gave-up. Buffy tried to quit. Buffy the once dead.

The Slayer shook her head and hid behind a rock as the new prey tromped by. The Slayer waited for the perfect moment. When that moment came, the slayer picked its target and killed it with a twist of the neck. She slipped back into the hiding place, dragging the corpse with her. The other new prey didn't seem to notice. She did so again, choosing the weakest first, killing them silently in the darkness. Soon only the strong remained on the outskirts.

The Slayer was bored. With a burst of speed, she streaked from her hiding place and took a warrior prey out with a punch to the unprotected throat. She paused a moment so the others saw her and blazed away again, leading them on a chase. The chase led to a chasm along a stream. There were a good fifty of the new prey following her. When they thought her trapped, the Slayer bounced from rock to rock until she was out of the chasm. Once atop the ledge, she simply pushed a couple of boulders. The boulders caught others, crushing the new prey under the rubble. The Slayer ignored the moans of the survivors and went back for more.

* * *

"The other orcs?" Lieutenant Louise Gardner nodded once while Rupert Giles almost choked with surprise. Something was very wrong, very, very wrong. Buffy should not be that stupid. She also shouldn't be able to move so quickly. Giles looked to a very worried Willow and Xander.

"Auntie says you need to stop her." Everyone turned towards the sound of the voice. Sitting on a unconnected monitor, grinned a dirty, barefoot, dark elven little girl. Her rough smock was shredded and stained; her dirty, snow-white hair was a tangle of knots and mats. The only thing new or clean about her were a pair of pristine, bejeweled, white opera length gloves with looked stark against her ebony skin. In human years she looked about five years old and she spoke with a childish, singsong tone. "Auntie say it's a bad thing if Slayers are going loony."

A split second later, every person with a weapon had it trained on the girl. She ignored them completely, not even paying attention to anyone but Giles, Willow and Xander. "Auntie says Slayer will die if Slayer isn't stopped."

"How do we stop her?" Giles tried to stay calm, but the obviously unnatural appearance of the girl had shaken him. The girl simply grinned and shrugged.

"That's your problem! I just came 'cuz Auntie wanted me to."

"Mr. Giles, what is that thing and how did it get in here?" General Hennessey was not pleased.

"Col-rather General, I have no idea what or who she is without research," Giles responded without looking at the officer. The girl jumped down from her perch to look up at Willow.

"Auntie wants you to hold her," the girl said a moment before shoving a bare skull into the redhead's hands. Willow eeped, but held on, looking in fear at the obviously inhuman skull in her hands. The girl stood in front of Giles and Xander, pointing an accusatory finger at them both. "You think the Master was bad? You think what Angelus did was bad? Stupid, stupid! Uncontrolled Slayer working only on instinct like an animal? Hmmm…That's bad."

* * *

Back in Sunnydale, Drizzt leaned back as his chest heaved from exhaustion. His muscles burned after most of a month of limited use. He leaned back and rested his head on a rock.

"Drizzt, you okay?" Riley looked down at the dark elf while keeping his blaster trained on the captured tanarukks. The dark elf nodded.

"Forgive me, I am out of practice," Drizzt replied, closing his eyes. Forest's eyes practically burst out of his head at the news.

"Damn kid, I'd like to see what you're like when you're in practice," he said with a whistle. He glanced down at the pile of bodies. It was not small.

"Give me another couple of months and I'll show you," the young dark elf said with a smile.

"I really hope you just mean a demonstration," Forest said with a slight tinge of worry in his voice. Drizzt's grin widened. "You scare me, kid."

Graham dragged another tanarukk over to their pile of live critters. "That's 23 still alive from Drizzt's batch. We shot sixty-six unconscious from blasters and one with a cracked skull from bullet fire."

"Good work Team 3," said the radio. "ETA is 18 minutes before we can get a recovery team out to your location. Injuries?"

"Bruises, nothing too severe," Riley reported back. "We'll get checked out when we get back to base."

"See that you do," was the simple command. Riley sighed.

"Twenty minutes more," he said with a shake of his head. He glanced down at the black dull armor. "Drizzt, what's the armor made out of?"

"Adamantine I believe. It's one of the strongest metals known in the Underdark," Drizzt replied. He unbuckled his scabbard and threw the sword to the leader. Riley caught it and pulled the blade out. "My sword is made of it. It is incredible for them to have that much of it. Of course Hellgate Keep has its own resources."

"Hellgate Keep?" Graham gave him a worried look.

"It's the place these creatures were bred," Drizzt said as he propped himself up. "I don't know much beyond what I learned at the academy, but from what I heard, it was a city filled with humans, elves, gnomes and others. Something happened and demons took it over. The demons captured orcs and bred them with demons. Centuries later the tanarukks were their primary war force. They are well known in the Underdark. Even the drow avoid contact with them unless some machination requires it."

"This is a really freaky world, you know that, right?" Forest said with a bit of a glare. He glanced back at the pile and zapped one of the captives. "Sorry, it twitched."

* * *

"One Girl!?!"

Kaanyr Vhok punched the rock beside him. His face was a mask of rage. Before him was a team of his vrock scouts, ugly vulture demons. "You mean to tell me that all our advanced troops were killed by one girl?"

"Lord, there were others involved, but one blond girl was the-" the vrock's head whipped around as the cambion back handed him.

"I do not want to hear excuses. I want results," the cambion said as he choked the life out of the vulture demon. When the thing fell to the floor and vanished back to the lower planes where it belonged, the cambion looked up to the rest of his scouts. "Go, find her and kill her. I want her head here before me, Sunnydale in ruins at my feet and its people marched back to Ascalhorn. Do this, and I will not kill you."

"Yes, Kaanyr Vhok," the vrocks said, bowing and backing out of the chamber. The cambion lord glanced to the leader of the true demon forces.

"Go to the surface and attack their forces again. Take the rest of the tanarukk forces with you. Strike hard and fast," he said with a look of death. When they were gone, Kaanyr Vhok glanced down at his lover who still writhed beneath him. He smiled and went back to what he was doing before they were so rudely interrupted. "Aliisza, please forgive the interruption."

* * *

The Vrocks were noisy fliers. Their lumbering bodies and overly long wingspan made them sound like a flock of turkeys to a normal person. To the slayer, even with the orkish hoard chasing her, the five vrocks were horrible scouts, she knew where they were nearly ten minutes before they reached her. She maneuvered her two enemies into position by running up a large slab of rock with the orcs chasing her up. Leaping off, she put the orcs right in the way of the diving vulture demons, taking out five orcs and two vrocks in one go. It was only a moment before they charged after her once more.

The Slayer did not consider herself to be in danger. This was nothing compared to platoons of vampires which the Slayer had fought on several occasions. As centuries passed and the Slayer went from girl to girl, there was plenty of time for introspection, to review mistakes and plan accordingly. Diving behind a rock, a second group of orcs took the brunt of the flying demons' attacks. This time, the orcs fought back. One unlucky vrock was pummeled to death by primitive clubs and axes.

The remaining four vrocks had learned better. Flying up to a ledge out of reach, three of the vrocks joined hands and started to dance around in a circle. One of the orcs, a shaman by the look of him, saw this with a look of horror. He bellowed to his companions and they started to run away. But it was too late. Not even half a minute after they began dancing, a deadly shock wave of energy flew out from them. Everything within a hundred feet died.

The Slayer had been lucky. She had hid just outside the range of the blast. She leapt out, seeking a better stretch of ground to fight on, but the fourth vrock had been waiting in the sky. The moment it spotted her, the demon dove at her, the force of the impact knocking the Slayer to the ground. As she pulled her fist back to punch it in the face, the vulture demon screeched at the top of its lungs, letting out a noise that shook the Slayer to the bones. Momentarily stunned, the Slayer was unable to fight off the subsequent claws at her abdomen, opening up huge gashes that stained the ground with blood. The pain shook her out of the stunned state and she folded up and kicked as hard as she could into the vrock's chest, knocking it backwards and breaking a few of its ribs. Holding in her intestines, the Slayer ran away from the battlefield to find a hole to hide in.

The Vrocks were not pleased to loose their target. They muttered to each other in their infernal tongue for a moment before splitting up to hunt down the creature that had been such a thorn in their sides. It was not long before they spotted the trail of blood along the ground. Squawking once, they prepared to climb into the hole to pull out the thorn in their sides.

The hole ended up being much smaller than expected and the Slayer was just out of reach. Two flew off to report their success to Kaanyr Vhok while the other two stayed to prevent the girl from escaping. Unfortunately they were so focused on the cave's occupant that they never noticed the orcs sneaking up behind them. With the Slayer vanished, the vrocks became the biggest threat to the orcs.

With a howl of rage, the orcs fell on the waiting vrocks with steel and muscle. The demons were brought low, chopped into a pile of pieces that quickly vanished. The threat gone, the orcs quickly jogged back to their people.

* * *

Deep below the city of Sunnydale, the rest of Hellgate Keep's demon forces marched toward the tunnels that connected to the sewer system and then up to the dry tunnels above. They thought they were invulnerable, unstoppable. However they were ignorant of current events on the surface. The Zhentarim was one of the greatest criminal and military organizations in the Realms. They were on par with the Harpers' agents and had their own people in almost every city in Faerun. Though they were not nearly as powerful as the Red Wizards of Thay or the Seven Sisters or the Knights of Myth Drannor, Manshoon had raised them to work together perfectly, keeping their political backstabbing out of the field and in the shadows of Zhentil Keep where it belonged. The Zhentarim were an organized group that, when all pieces were put together, worked like a well oiled machine. Benito Mussolini would have been impressed with their organization.

Peris's reconnaissance team was one of many in the organization. They had specialists in their own fields: stealth, martial ability, assassination, divine piety and arcane mastery. Every team was perfectly balanced between each field. In recent years there had been an increase in Banites in the teams, but Peris had specifically not included any: he did not trust the Church of Bane. Peris himself was a follower of Mask, the god of thieves, shadows and intrigue. He had chosen others with similar allegiances so there would be no conflicting goals.

When the Black Cloaks and the legion from the Citadel of the Raven had arrived, he had dealt with the other leader quickly, and they had decided he would be in control of the combined forces. After a brief planning session, he and the tiefling had planned their attack.

"We go in silently, stealth in front will identify the demons and our fighters will keep them occupied while our mages banish them. You are not to harm any humans you might find," Peris ordered to the assembled forces. "Lord Manshoon wants this done quietly and cleanly. He will be most displeased if his plans are upset."

"Allow me to make it perfectly clear that if some incident occurs, I will personally inform Lord Manshoon of the offender," the tiefling put in, reinforcing the order. It was hard to believe, but the forces actually did stand straighter. The idea of being personally on Lord Manshoon's bad side was a nightmare none of them wished to live. "No one is to enter Sunnydale until we are invited. Is that clear?" The sound of a legion saluting in unison was deafening in the small cavern.

"Good," said Peris with a dark smile. "Now let's go put Sunnydale in debt to the Zhentarim."

They marched out in spheres of silence, the stealthiest on point. The first guards, a couple of tanarukks, never even knew what hit them. The demon spawned orcs were dead before they hit the ground. The small army marched forward until it encountered its first true demons. Still surrounded by spells of silence, the fighters streaked forward and kept the three glabrezu occupied while the mages behind the silence spells cast in safety. Only a few seconds later, the tanar'ri were gone and the army continued on to the next target.

Hours later, the army had taken out a massive number of demons large and small (though a few mages had secreted a few lesser demons back to their labs to be used as familiars). And, true to their orders, they had not stepped into Sunnydale. It was time for them to head to the surface and destroy the rest of Hellgate Keep's forces.

It was not an easy job. There were some passageways, but they were so limited that only two people could walk side by side. This created a very dangerous situation to anyone heading out first. As a team, the Zhentarim were organized and deadly, separated, they were easily killed. The goal was to have the Black Cloaks, the arcane arm of the Zhentarim, go forward under invisibility spells and open a gate to allow the rest of the army to march quickly to the surface. It was a good plan. It would have worked perfectly if things had gone right.

Things had not gone right. A medium level wizard had been resting in a dark corner in one of the larger rooms. Out of the shadows two arms reached out and pulled him into the stone. A moment later Aliisza walked out of the shadows wearing his appearance. She had worked beside them, pretending to help and doing a very good job at pretending. Finally, she was chosen to help make the portal. As soon as they were out of sight she dropped the disguise and clawed out the other wizard's throat. She then flew to the surface where her lover waited.

"It's done. Here's the body," she said, dumping the body of the Black Cloak at their feet. "You never told me that they were in league with the Zhentarim."

"I didn't know," replied Kaanyr Vhok with an innocent shrug. He dragged her into a deep kiss. After several moments they broke contact and gasped for air. The cambion turned to a demon lieutenant and grinned. "Gather our forces here. Instead of them marching out, we'll march in and kill them."

The demon (neither half-fiend was quite sure of the type as there was a great deal of demonic cross breeding in Hellgate Keep) gave something of a salute, before calling to its brethren. After a short wait, in keeping with the amount of time it should have taken the two mages to march to the surface, Aliisza cast her spell, opening up the Portal. After a short moment, the first of the Zhent troops marched through and were promptly slaughtered.

It was brutal. These were not the one or two demons the troops had faced before, but the collected surviving forces of the Scoured Legion. Soon, greater demons were charging into the portal three at a time. Every so often a portion of a Zhent warrior would be tossed back through, much to the delight of the fiends waiting to charge through the Portal.

"We're being slaughtered!" Peris said, snarling as he threw another of his many daggers at a nearby demon. He looked back to the tiefling. "Get us out of here!"

Franticly, the fiendish Black Cloak muttered the words of a spell before commanding those closest to him to link arms. A nasty blast of energy hit from a trio of dancing vrocks a split second before the spell took them away, back to the surface outside Sunnydale. The tiefling was unfamiliar with the area and the teleport spell misfired, sending them miles from their destination. Heavily wounded, the Zhentarim agents, 26 in all, fell unconscious on the ground outside the University of Sunnydale.

* * *

In the cave to the south, the Slayer was fading between consciousness and near death. She was healing, but she had lost far too much blood. In the pain, Buffy fluttered back into control. She smiled grimly. After everything, she was going to die in another cave alone, but this time there would be no one to come and save her. Xander and CPR couldn't save her from this.

Absently, as she coughed up blood, she pondered what had happened when the Slayer took over. It had started with just the briefest of thoughts: "What if I can't do this?" And that had been enough. The Slayer was so much stronger here. She had known the Slayer, the embodiment of the power with in her, the Chosen power, for almost three years at this point. But it had always been in the background until she died. Immediately afterwards she had become stronger than before and it had just kept going. She killed the master. She had defeated Spike and Drusilla the first time the caused trouble. She had stopped Angelus from destroying the world. She had protected Sunnydale from a dragon. And now what? She was going to die in a cave with no one the wiser.

She held her stomach so her guts would stay on the inside. The Slayer healing was kicking in, but Buffy doubted it would work in time. She would need water to help replace the blood, but she had no clue where to find it. She probably needed stitches too. She was still bleeding.

The orcs were outside too. Orcs with families. They didn't have many warriors there. There were children and women and old people. And most of them were injured. They had burns and claw marks. The Slayer didn't care, but Buffy did. She had killed children, and fathers and mothers. Buffy struggled to stay awake. She had killed children. It mattered little that she was out of control at the time. She had done it. Her.

The demons had killed far too many before she had stopped them. She only hoped the Initiative and the others had been in time. Buffy wasn't sure if the tanarukks were actually killed, or if she had just knocked them out. If they woke up before…she could not let herself think about it. She was already a murderer as it was. She propped herself up a little more, wincing as the pain seared through her. Her wound, almost closed in her previous position, opened back up.

This time, the pain was too much and she faded away again. She dreamt of the history of the slayers, from the First Slayer to the one before her and then to Kendra. She delved into the minds of her previous incarnations. As time went on, she learned bit here and there of each of them, but the memories were scattered, unfocused. They had no order, no sense of time or delineation. She learned a few swear words in Chinese and then she dreamt about how to build a ballista. She occasionally would wake into a semi-conscious state and got a vague impression of someone in red bending over her and then she was back in the dream world, as lost as ever. She then spent a few years learning Greek before her dreams swept her towards longbow practice in Wales. She spent some time learning jujitsu and Bushido as she pretended to be a man during the Edo period. Then she remembered fighting Spike on a subway and him killing her. She saw first hand what it felt like to be killed by Drusilla as she watched the end of Kendra from the dead slayer's point of view. "Sleep, you'll be fine now," Buffy heard from somewhere. She didn't recognize the voice, but she obeyed. She went back to the memories. She learned how to make a quick atlatl from a fresh kill and hunt vampires by day in places where not many people lived. The dreams went on…


	17. Chapter 17

"Sir, it looks like the demons are converging to the east of us," reported one of the aides in the War room. General Hennessey leaned over the shoulder to look at the video from the helicopter.

"Bad, Bad Buffy, went out for a fight and got kinda huffy," the little girl said in that same sing-song tone. She seemed to be completely oblivious of the guns aimed in her direction. "Went out to slay and lost the day!"

"You are not helping," Giles said in his best Ripper voice. The girl danced around without acknowledging his tone. "Have you found her again?"

"No, sir, the last we saw is her being attacked by those flying demons and then two flew off and the orcs ran away," replied one of the younger officers. "Those orcs have stopped moving and seem to be setting up camp. There are a few mounted on big furry creatures, but otherwise they seem to be settling down and putting up a guard."

"Furry creatures?"

"They look like Banthas, from Star Wars," the kid replied.

"Oh good god," Giles replied. He heard a snicker behind him. With an angry look, he turned back to glare at the little girl. "What do you know? Are you here to help or just torture us with your irritating songs?"

"You should look for her, she might die if you don't find her," the girl said with all seriousness. Xander grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.

"What do you mean she might die?" Xander snarled. He was obvious not pleased with the irritating creature.

"Wounds, get too many of them and you die," her face made it clear the girl thought she was talking to an idiot. "If you find her in time, she might live. Simple as that."

"How are we going to find her? I mean, there's a couple hundred orcs between us and them and I really don't know where to find her once we get past them and then how are we going to get them back? And why am I still holding your skull? I'm mean it's not your skull, but you were keeping it and it's really creepy and it doesn't make sense for my to keep holding it even if you say it's your aunt, and by the way carrying around your aunt's skull is really disturbing in many ways" Willow was cut off by the girl's hand covering her mouth.

"Breathe," the girl commanded. Willow took a deep breath. The girl grinned.

"Okay! First things first, go get her. You have plenty of resources to find her. Second, get help. You have the combined resources of Sunnydale at your disposal. Thirdly, the chicken really did cross the road, but it was only a near miss. Fourthly, the Slayer is the only thing keeping this fledgling nation together right now. She is a symbol to both parties: a Chosen One to you guys and a few others watching see her as a beacon of hope. Others see her as the thing nightmares are made of. She scares them like the boogeyman scares little human children. Thirdly-"

"You already said third and then went on to fourth," corrected Xander.

The little girl gave him a look of death. "As I was saying-"

"I think you've said plenty, Squirt," heads turned to see a tall man with pale skin, just a slight tinge of green with mint colored hair. He looked down at his sister. "Mother wants us back. You've caused more problems than you fixed."

"What? Just because I'm telling them a little more?" the little girl had her hands on her hips and leaned forward. "I'm your big sister, you should pay more attention to what I say!"

"I didn't come here for a discussion," he grumbled. He grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her to a wall. Giving her a little kick, she vanished through. He turned for a moment before pulling a small round object from his coat pocket and set it on a near by table. "That should help you find her quickly."

With that he turned and quickly followed his sister into the wall. The moment they were out of sight, everyone in the room suddenly realized they could breath again. As soon as he had appeared, all the humans had been paralyzed, unable to even breath, much less confront him. Giles bent over to catch his breath. Hennessey grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in close.

"What-in-hell-was-that?"

Giles sighed. "I have no idea at this time," he said as the general set him back down. "At a later date, after I have had time to research, I might be able to tell you more."

"Giles, it's a compass," Xander reported, opening it up and flashing it around.

"It also doesn't point north," said Willow. "OH! It's a Buffy compass! We can use this to find her because it points towards her, but it could be a problem because she might be underground and that would suck and then we would have to go hunting in the tunnels for her and that is never a good thing in Sunnydale."

"Yes, quite right," Giles said absently as he nibbled on his glasses. Putting them back on his head, he turned and started walking out. "I shall have to consult my books. Rather, after we have Buffy back."

* * *

Drizzt had finally caught his breath and was walking around again. The retrieval team had finally arrived and Team 3 was returning to base. Drizzt was accompanying them, but was walking with a definite limp.

"Drizzt, you might want to get that looked at," Riley said, pointing to his leg. The dark elf shook his head.

"It's fine. I just stressed the leg a little too early," Drizzt argued with a nod. "The last time I had my leg broken it had taken much longer to heal. I am quite impressed by your people's medical knowledge."

"You said you 'had your leg broken.' That's a weird way of saying you broke your leg," Forest said.

"I did not break my leg," Drizzt said, shaking his head slightly. "It was broken for me during my ranger training. My brother did the deed himself. It was the first in many lessons of first aid in hostile situations." His human companions looked at him like he was insane. He simply shrugged. "This was the least of what my people do to each other."

"Your own brother broke your leg?" Graham looked like he was going to explode.

"Yes, it was to force me to learn how to make a proper splint. Actually the fact that he had to do so suggested I was weak," Drizzt said. He didn't notice his companions' shocked looks. "Admittedly, I would never teach someone with that method."

"I should hope not," Forest said with a shudder. "Your people are into some freaky shit, kid."

"Like I said, that is the least of what they did to me or to each other," the dark elf said with a shrug. "It is a little strange that people are always so interested in Menzoberranzan."

"Creepy things intrigue people," Graham said with a shrug. "That's why we go see horror movies or read about serial killers."

"By your standards, my people certainly do qualify," Drizzt replied with a just slightly strained smile on his lips.

"So, do you usually use two swords?"

"Yes, one of mine was destroyed soon after I had arrived on the surface," Drizzt said, motioning to the empty scabbard. "I need to find a replacement, but all the scimitars I have found so far are out of balance with my other blade."

"How many scimitars are you gonna find in Sunnydale?" Riley asked, a little confused.

"Oh, Buffy and Mr. Giles have a fairly extensive collection of weapons. I have been allowed to peruse them at my leisure," Drizzt said simply. "Unfortunately, your scimitars are much heavier than my own. I will need to find something closer to the balance of my remaining blade."

"Why do you keep those around? I'd rather have a nice gun," Forest said. They four glanced over to Riley as his radio beeped.

"Team 3, sir. Yes, understood sir," He clicked off the radio and turned to his team. "There's an army of major demons moving in from the east. It looks like they just slaughtered a bunch of locals. They want the teams to converge and get a better look at the situation." His team nodded silently, before checking their gear. Riley poked Drizzt in the leg, making him wince involuntarily. "You're going back to town. You're no good to us with that and I don't want to have to tell Buffy that you got killed because you wouldn't back off." Drizzt grinned at the mention of Buffy's name. "And yes, it is because she could rip my head off my shoulders."

"Fine, I'll head back. I need to make sure Joyce is safe, because that would cause some serious problems in my life," the dark elf replied. "You three stay alive, you hear that?"

"Get going Drizzt, we'll see you later," Riley said with a laugh. Sobering up, he turned back to his other friends and motioned for them to move out. It was taking more time than usual to move to the other ridge because the severe lack of transportation. They had to walk. He wanted to ask Walsh if they could get horses or something faster in the future. Soon they spotted other teams and they went in. The demons were taking a leisurely pace, it was almost as if they wanted to prolong the battle as long as possible. This was more than a little strange. "Sir, Team 3. The HSTs seem to be taking their time in getting here. I estimate twenty five land walkers of various shapes and about twice that fliers. Most of the fliers are quite small. No, the size of children or large flying dogs. The walkers are much larger. Some are Giant sized. Yes, sir." He turned to his team. "We are to stay put. They are sending out the big guns."

"What big guns? We didn't have any missiles and I don't see any tanks sitting around," Forest grumbled cynically.

"From what I heard, it's something the new tech guys planned up," Graham said. "Some kind of Anarchist's Cookbook sort of stuff."

"Why do I fell like that's going to be the death of me?" Riley said, joining in with the grumble.

"Because you're smart, that's why," Forest said simply. They soon heard a small engine plane approaching from behind them. It really looked like it shouldn't have even been in the air. Forest looked at Riley with a accusatory look. "Big guns?"

Riley shrugged.

The plane was faster than the flying demons and managed to outmaneuver all but one unlucky flier that hit the windshield. Team 3 watched as the door opened up and a person threw out a couple of small objects. The plane had to barrel roll to avoid a vrock and the guy bounced around where he or she was tied to the plane. The objects fell to the ground and exploded. The shock wave spread out, consuming the demons closest to it, but those further out avoided the blast, taking only minimal damage. Some were on fire and did not see to have any adverse affects.

"Sir, some appear to be immune to fire, or at least resistant," reported someone over the line. The plane circled around again and the person in the back dropped a couple more objects. As soon as the objects were away, the plane accelerated and got as far away as it could. They were too small to be easily identified, but the effect was clear. It was a massive explosion that incinerated everything that could burn. The demons were a little worse for wear. It was clear that some were going AWOL. A great number of the fliers flew away from the larger group. A few seemed to vanish far too quickly.

The small plane flew away at that point only to be replaced by the Apaches. The twin roars of the gunships flew over the heads of the soldiers on the ridge. Team 3 had heard the same rumor as everyone else about the availability of Apache ammo: there was not much left. Every hoped there would be enough to end this fight. It was. The demons did not stand a chance against the full firepower of the gunships.

Demon hides were strong, but were nothing when compared to the hide of a dragon. The bullets punctured their skin and flew right through to the other side. If this had been a melee battle, the demons would have had the upper hand. Even the few vrocks that still flew in the sky were trying to escape. The clumsier flying demons might as well have been big red targets. They fell out of the sky and crushed any living underneath them. As the demons died, they went back to the lower planes where they belonged. Any items they carried clattered to the ground. The demons fled the flying constructs that shredded them. The gunships chased them. Eventually, the very few surviving demons managed to escape into a cavern and the Apaches returned to base.

* * *

Drizzt arrived at the Summers residence about the time that the Apaches had fallen back. The entire city was in shambles and it would be weeks before everything was back in working order. The Summers house was no different: the front door was smashed in and the windows broken. Drizzt charged up the stairs and into the house. The living room was trashed. Furniture was in splinters. He heard a groan from the kitchen and ran as fast as he could. Joyce was there, trapped under the remains of the counter.

Ignoring his pain, he hefted the granite counter top off of the older woman. Her head was bleeding and she was unconscious. He grabbed a dishtowel and wrapped it around her head. Tearing another into strips, he tied the makeshift bandage down, careful not to make it too tight. Drizzt didn't know what to do.

In Menzoberranzan, a person would do one of two things: let the person die or find a priestess. Usually, the first choice was favored. Cutthroat politics were the standard operating procedure when it came to the drow city and it was often advantageous to leave someone to die. It was standard to let people die unless there was a direct benefit to saving the person's life. If the person was required alive, others would go to find a priestess who would then need to be pampered and convinced saving said dying person was beneficial to her. That was easier said than done.

Sunnydale didn't have priestesses. At least not the kind who could save someone's life with a touch and a spell. Drizzt knew he could take her to the healers, but at the moment, he was confused enough that he was not quite sure where the healer building was. Hospital, it was called a hospital, he reminded himself. He was panicking.

Carefully, he picked her up and set her on the couch cushions with an extra pillow under her head. He made sure she didn't have any other visible wounds. He struggled to remember everything he learned in field medicine. That was almost twenty years ago. He was once again reminded of how young he really was. Old in human terms, but barely more than a child by elven terms. He should know this, he had just been talking to people about it! He really didn't know what to do.

* * *

Buffy was brought into a semi-awake state a while later. She saw the person in red sitting beside her again, but she couldn't make out any features at all. "It's alright, young lady, you're safe here. Heal yourself." A moment or two she faded back into unconsciousness. She dreamt of another world this time. A world where she had stopped Angelus. None of these deaths would have happened. It was a good dream, but ultimately, it was just a dream. Absently, she felt a hand rest lightly on her neck. "Shush, rest and heal." After that the dreams were gone.

* * *

Peris awoke to find himself with a bright light shining in his face. He blinked as a person leaned over him, silhouetted by the back light. The person said something, but he couldn't understand the words. Oh, SHIT!! He was in Sunnydale! This was bad. Lord Manshoon was not going to be pleased, not pleased at all.

He glanced over to his other side and noticed the others were in the room. They were in some kind of tent. And there were at least five people standing guard. This was not good. Somehow they had been captured. It looked like they were being treated by healers. That was good. It was better to be captured than dead. Perhaps he could convince them he was on their side, or a diplomat and were attacked by the demons. That last part was true at least.

* * *

It was ten minutes before a team went by the Summers House to see if there were casualties. The team found Drizzt changing Joyce Summer's bandages in the living room.

"How long has she been like this?" Drizzt tried to think. He was still not used to the Sunnydale use of time.

"I arrived ten minutes ago," he said after a moment. "I don't know how much longer before then." The team got their medical specialists into place and Drizzt moved away.

"We need to bring her in," four of them counted to three and lifted Joyce onto a board. They carried her to a vehicle and motioned for his to follow. "We're bringing her to the hospital. We need some identification and medical information. If you know where this is we would really appreciate it."

"She's Joyce Summers, I don't know anything else. Her daughter would know more," Drizzt shrugged, unable to help. There was a realization on their faces when they heard the name.

"Shit! It's the Slayer's mother," one of them said with a little fear. There was a split second as the EMTs shared a brief look of fear before rushing to help. One of them glanced back to Drizzt. "She's going to Sunnydale General. We'll make sure she gets the best care." With a nod, he slipped into the front seat and they drove off as fast as possible.

Inside the ambulance, the EMTs shook their heads a moment and let go of their demon forms. They were still mostly humanoid, but it felt better to let it go. Keeping human form was like keeping a fist clenched for hours. One demon EMT looked at the other with shared fear.

"You know she has to live right?" the driver said, dodging a body in the street.

"Hell yes, I know she has to live!" The second said. The third and fourth were in the back doing all they could on the drive. "The Slayer finds out we were there and she'll assume it was our fault. Then it's happy decapitation time."

"She might not kill us, I mean, she might want to research us first," the third said. He received some angry, disbelieving stares. "Okay, she'll just kill us. But that's only if her mom dies!"

Their attention focused back on Mrs. Summers as the ambulance screamed through the streets to the hospital.

* * *

"I think you're ready to wake up," Buffy heard from nearby calling her out of her slumber. The pain was gone, but she still felt exhausted. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she glanced around and realized she was alone. She glanced down at her abdominals, not knowing what to expect. Everything was on the right sides, her guts on the inside and nasty bits on the outside. But her shirt was shredded. And blood all over her, and by the colors, it seemed to be about fifty/fifty hers and something else's.

"Great," She said, grumbling. She sniffed the air, confused by the smells of the cave. "Tobacco smoke?" She snapped into a fighting stance and looked for an opponent. "Who's there?"

No one answered.

After a moment, she reluctantly lowered her guard and glanced around the cave. There was a lot of blood staining the ground and the walls where she had collapsed.

Something was wrong. She had no scar, nor was there any pain from the newly regenerated flesh. She knew her Slayer healing had been jacked up, but not that much. Someone had been here, and quite recently. The rock next to her was warm, as if someone had been sitting there as she slept. And that smell didn't go away: Tobacco smoke and herbs.


	18. Sunnydale 911

The following program is brought to you by the Sunnydale Broadcasting Company, a nonprofit public broadcasting network. Some of what you are about to see may not be suitable for all ages. Viewer discretion is advised.

The following stories are true, although names have been changed and identities have been protected in some cases. Watch as we look at the True Crimes of the Initiative through the eyes of the Agents that investigate them. Watch as the cameras show us the true lives of Sunnydale's Initiative Agents.

* * *

Agent Riley Finn, Assistant Director, Sunnydale Office

I was patrolling around Revello Drive about 2100. It had been a late night, a little slow, but dispatch got a call about a SUI in progress. We quickly went over to the high school to investigate. The caller was a young man, presumably in his late teens. He told us his brother had gotten drunk and was possibly planning a SUI.

An SUI is a Summoning Under the Influence and is currently punishable by fines and hours of community service. It's to help prevent part time and untrained sorcerers from calling in major demons and other creatures. Summonings and Conjurations are not banned, but we want to make sure people can control what they are summoning. The last thing we want is a Balor on the loose in downtown Sunnydale.

* * *

In a darkened hallway a man staggers through the school, a ring of candles tied to his head. Riley flashes his light at the man who tries to shield himself from the glare. His face is blurred out, but his baldhead shines in the flashlight beam. His suit is disheveled and looks as if he's been wearing it for quite some time.

"Excuse me, care to tell me what you're doing?" Riley asks.

"Sorry, I'm lost," the man slurs.

"I'll say you are," Forrest snarks. He shines his light at a badly drawn summoning circle on the floor.

"What's your name?"

"EDWARD." The man says in a digitally edited voice.

"EDDY, care to tell me what you're doing in the high school at night?"

"I work here."

"You work here? EDDY, have you had anything to drink?"

He says something unintelligible.

"Just one beer? That must have been a pretty big beer," Graham comments.

Forrest holds up a book. "Cobblepot's Bestiary, the poor man's Necronomicon. I think it's pretty clear what he was doing. It's marked for trolls."

"Why don't you tell me why you were summoning a troll on school property," asks Riley. The man shakes his head and refuses to answer.

"EDDY, I'm going to give you a field sobriety test. Do you know what that means?" Riley asks in a tone as if he were talking to a child. The man nods. "Good, now, when I tell you to start I want you to stand on one foot and count back from ten."

"Then, nine, eet," the man starts.

"EDDY, EDDY, I didn't tell you to start," Riley said, holding out a hand to stop him from falling over. "You need to count just when I tell you to start, can you do that?"

"Nough," the man slurs.

"Okay, EDDY, we're going to bring you in for a breathalyzer test."

"Nough."

"EDDY, do you know that refusal is considered acceptance of drunkenness, correct?"

He says something unintelligible. Riley Finn turns him around and starts cuffing him. "EDWARD McFAKENAME, you are under arrest for public drunkenness, possession of an alcoholic beverage on school property and Summoning Under the Influence of an alcoholic beverage. You will be brought to the town jail where you will sober up and you will be charged and fined appropriately. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say…"

* * *

Agent Riley Finn, Assistant-Director Sunnydale Office

After that it was just a matter of formalities. We get quite a few of these, many more than we thought we would have when the Initiative started this kind of work. SUI is a serious offense, in many ways just as dangerous as OUI. Any actions your summon takes, counts as if you yourself committed the action.

* * *

Agent Boothe

I was on patrol one weekend when dispatch told me of one of our most flagrant repeat offenders. He's been trouble since almost day one. We got the report of missing kittens in the area and went out to investigate.

* * *

A large floppy demon with earflaps is running down the street with a basket under one arm. Lights flash as Agent Boothe chases after him.

"KARL, you need to stop," Agent Boothe yells as he runs after him. "You run and you only go to jail tired."

KARL just continues to run, glancing back over his shoulder. His face is a pixilated mess.

"KARL, I told you to freeze!" The agent pulls out his blaster, cranks it down a notch and shoots twice. The demon freezes and falls backwards. The panting officer walks up and pulls the basket of kittens from the demon's arm. They mew pitifully as he sets them on the ground. "KARL, get back up."

"KARL, you know the laws about kitten poker," Boothe chides. The demon hangs his head pitifully as well.

"I know, but it was just a friendly game," KARL complains. Boothe clearly doesn't believe him.

"We saw you coming out of Willy's," Boothe says. "You and I both know that kitten gambling is allowed in specific, registered poker halls approved by the Sunnydale Council. Willy's Bar is not registered and will never be approved."

"I'm sorry, please forgive me," KARL pleads.

"KARL, this is the forth time you've been caught in illegal kitten gambling rackets," Boothe says. "You're looking at a felony repeat offender."

KARL falls to his knees and begs. "Please, please give me a break this time, Agent Boothe."

"Hmmm…alright, I'll confiscate the kittens and write you a warning," Boothe said. "You need to start attending those Gambling Anonymous meetings we talked about."

"I will, I promise. Thank you, thank you."

* * *

Agent Boothe

He's essentially harmless unless you're a bucket of fried chicken. He's got a gambling problem and I get that. But he doesn't need more punishment; he needs more help. It's hard for some to understand, but demons are people too. They have many of the same problems.

* * *

Agents Hammond and O'Neil

Hammond: We were called out to reports of a civil disturbance in the Orc community on the outskirts of town. We get called out there every so often to break up fights. They're a tough people, but they've lived in a harsh world. We've brought some changes they aren't ready for. We make sure to be quick to respond to any calls so they know we're there to help. It's a rough beat, but I think we're making some real progress.

O'Neil: This particular time it was an issue that's appearing more often these past few weeks. Religious tensions are growing and we're seeing a definite change between the various groups. The man in charge worships a god that isn't too popular with all of them and the close quarters are bringing that to the forefront. Not to mention that their youngsters are exposed to religions they never even knew existed. Sometimes, like this one, it gets violent.

* * *

Between two of the small huts two Initiative agents try to keep two orcs from apart. They separate the two, and Hammond talks with one of them, an orc female who towers over him.

"So, you're friend says you shot him with an arrow," Hammond says.

"No! I shot that slime-sucking-elf-kisser with an arrow," the orcish warrior woman replies. She spits in the direction of the other orc who is being treated for arrow wounds in his shoulder. "JOEY claims that he's going to follow the ways of Buddha, Grumsh isn't good enough for him!"

"SALLY, you've been warned that religious freedom is a right in Sunnydale," Hammond says. "You can't attack people and it's worse if you're persecuting them for their faith. This is the third time we've been called out like this."

"Well, I say our leaders are weak! We should slaughter you all like the old days!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, SALLY, what were you told about threatening?" Hammond says, putting a hand on her shoulder. She suddenly stops and throws her nose up in the air in indignation. "Threatening an officer of the law is a serious crime, you need to think about what you are going to say before you say it. Not everyone knows you like I do."

"It's just so hard!" she whines, suddenly seeming exhausted.

"I know SALLY, but you're a strong girl, I know you'll make it through," Hammond said. "Spring is just around the corner. By this time next year we'll have some real houses for your family and it won't be so bad. But until then you need to follow the rules. Can you do that SALLY?"

Oddly meet for an orc of her size, SALLY nods. "That's a good girl. Now, you're only nine, so I can't arrest you without your parents present, but if you don't change things it could get really bad. I heard you attacked someone at school, too?"

"…Yes…"

"And why did you do that?"

"I-I got angry," SALLY says hesitantly.

"And why did you get angry?"

"Math is hard."

"That's why we have tutors, so they can help you with math," Hammond says kindly. "Just ask for help. Now, why don't you go back inside?"

Sally nods and walks back into the hut. Hammond walks back to where O'Neil was talking to the wounded orc. "How's it going over here?"

"He's refusing to press charges," O'Neil says. "I've told him of his rights, but he claims it's a religious conviction."

"If we punish them for every slight, then we are no better than those who strike us," JOEY says as if quoting something. "A child should not be punished for the sins of the father."

"JOEY, you also have a right not to be attacked," O'Neil says. "No one has the right to attack you. If someone hurts you, you need to tell us."

* * *

Agent O'Neil: We definitely feel a culture clash every time we go into that village. It's a hard place to be at times and the rough winter isn't helping. At times I think the only think keeping them from raiding is the fact a lot of them fear us. And that's not good. If they're going to be part of the community they need to respect us, not fear us. Scared people can end up doing crazy things.

Agent Hammond: JOEY survived and is doing well; he's considering joining a Buddhist monastery they're building along the western cliffs. But SALLY is in Juvenile Court for assault. I think she'll shape up once she gets some discipline. We all have high hopes for her, but unfortunately you can't save everyone. The orcs aren't the only ones we have culture clash with. Groups from earth are splitting along cultural lines. I think it's smart to make sure the schools are integrated instead of everyone going off into their own corners because they think we aren't going to get along. It might take a generation before we really start feeling like one people instead of a bunch of factions.

* * *

Agent Carver

It's a hard job. We've become police and boarder patrol all at once. Sometimes we need to make a decision none of our training actually helps prepare us for. Add to the sad fact that most of us will never see our loved ones again… Some agents can't take it and snap. That's what happened this night.

I was on patrol with Tony; well, he was Agent Crowley then. Tony had been having a hard time. Back on earth he was slated to get married and was almost a civilian again. He was looking forward to it. When the shift happened he was a broken man. This patrol…well this patrol was hard. It was hard on us and it was hard on everyone involved. I'm not saying this to put anyone down or excuse his actions. What he did was wrong, but it might explain them a little.

* * *

A teen sits on a street corner with a few friends. He's dressed in a leather jacket and his spiked hair is colored in various states of purple, pink and peroxide blond. The other kids are dressed similarly, but don't seem to have the same magical flare.

The lead kid says an arcane phrase and waves his hand around. An instant later a little creature made of flame appears in his hand. The creature is basically a red humanoid female with bat-like wings and a long skinny tail with a point at the end. Flames spring off her at times and she seems to breath smoke. His talent all suitably impresses them as he controls the creature with his magical prowess.

Agents Carver and Crowley approach the group with their hands on their guns as if prepared to fire at any moment.

"You kids like to tell me what you're doing at this time of night," Carver asks.

"Just practicing," the punk style kid replies, letting the mephit fly around his head before landing on his shoulder.

"You know there is a curfew for a reason, right?" Carver asks again. The kid shrugs and lets the mephit fly back to his hand. Crowley slowly raises his gun to train at the creature. "It's for your safety and everyone else's. Most things seem to attack at night so we like to have everyone inside for their own protection."

"F*BLEEP* that! Didn't help the Murphy's when those f*BLEEP*ing demons attacked!" the punk kid says as he abruptly jumps to his feet. He gets right in Carver's face. "Where were you? Where were you when Sarah Murphy was gutted by a f*BLEEP*ing demon? Huh?"

"Yeah, Initia-B*BLEEP*ch? How about her grandfather who was chopped in half while sitting in his recliner? Where were you?" asks another getting into Crowley's face. He points right in the Agent's face, but never touches him. "Where were you?"

"Don't fuck off with me punk," threatens Crowley, still pointing a gun at the mephit.

"Tony, put the gun down," Carver hisses so only the recorder can hear. Crowley squints and lowers the gun.

"WHERE THE F*BLEEP*K WERE YOU?" yell all five of them at once. The mephit hisses and spits a small ball of fire. Crowley looses it and shoots the mephit. The kids run back, but Crowley sets onto the budding mage before he can escape. Kicking his legs out, Crowley beats him in the head with the butt of his pistol. The kid throws his arms up to protect himself.

"You f*BLEEP*king witch! Go to hell! GO TO F*BLEEP*KING HELL YOU F*BLEEP*KING LITTLE WITCH-B*BLEEP*CH!" Crowley screams as he beats the boy. The mephit circles around and spits fire on the Initiative agent even as it dies from the wound. Carver runs over to pull his partner off. Crowley hits him with the butt of his pistol. "It's people like you! Little witch boy! People like you got us sent to this hell! Don't you f*BLEEP*king dare yell 'where were you' you piece of trash!"

Carver slips an arm around Crowley's neck and pulls him backwards, choking him. Carver slams Crowley on the ground and keeps a knee in his back. He presses the button on his radio. "This is Agent Carver. I need an ambulance and back up."

"F*BLEEP*k you Carver! F*BLEEP*k you! You're no different than this trash!"

"What happened?"

"CARVER! YOU AND THE WITCH-B*BLEEP*CH! YOU'RE GOING TO HELL!"

"Crowley went nuts."

* * *

Agent Carver

Tony might have been provoked, but that was no excuse. He was expelled from the agency and he's only gotten worse. It's hard dealing with someone who used to be your partner, especially when you might end up arresting him. I hope he gets the help he needs, but we're stretched so thin here that I don't know what is going to happen. However, I do know he's not the only one who's stressed. Everyone is. I just hope we can all work out that stress in constructive ways.


	19. Chapter 19

"Five hundred thirty-seven dead at present count. One thousand, seven hundred ninety-two with life threatening injuries at present count. Two thousand five hundred, seventy-nine with non-life-threatening injuries at present count," General Hennessey reported to the irate mayor. The military man's voice was cracking. It was always painful to report a death. After he had come back from Vietnam he had been assigned to deliver the letters to the families of dead soldiers. It was never easy. Listing them like this was just sugar coating a very big problem. "Mr. Mayor, that's over five percent of our population dead or near death."

"This is bad," Finch said. The poor kid looked like he was about to cry. Inwardly, Hennessey sighed. Hell, he was slipping into depression. He felt responsible. He didn't know how the enemy got inside, but he was sure as hell going to find out.

The mayor looked away from the window for the first time since the briefing began. Outside, this high above the streets it was hard to tell there was an attack. There weren't any destroyed buildings, no flames and smoke rising from ruins. It was a nasty deception of the early morning light. "Mr. Giles."

"Yes, sir?"

"Find Buffy, go into your books, take your Initiative and find out everything about this attack. Recruit anyone you feel you need in this matter," the mayor replied in a tone that was flat, bitter and cold. It held a menace even the mayor was surprised about. "General Hennessey, I want a list of ever person who has died: name, age, species, and occupation. And then I want to know how these things got into my town without me knowing."

"Yes, Mr. Mayor," the newly promoted general replied. His own voice held the same kind of anger as the mayor's.

"What is the situation with the other orcs? Are they moving to attack?" the mayor continued tersely.

"No, it appears that they have set up camp," reported General Hennessey. "From what our teams can determine, they have a very low adult male population. They appear malnourished as well. From our best guesses, they appear to have been fleeing from something."

"So they do not appear to have been connected with the attack?"

"No, Mr. Mayor, they do not," was the general's simple reply. "From what we can tell, they do not even appear to know we are here other than the incident with Ms. Summers."

"Keep me under advisement," the mayor replied with a nod.

"We need to reconsider our plans in case of attack," the General said. "Sunnydale was designed for peacetime in a peaceful nation. We now live in a warzone. We need contingencies in place for when this happens again."

"We will discuss that at a later time," Wilkins said, turning back towards the window and the town. "What about the people who teleported unconscious onto the University campus?"

"They are all in custody, one has died, the others are being treated for their wounds," the deputy mayor answered. "They are in police custody, not military and are restrained. Though…I admit I am a little worried." Wilkins glanced back at the younger man. Finch shrugged and glanced back at his notes. "We don't know if these are the competent cops or not."

"I will have an Initiative team take over as soon as possible," Giles said.

"Take care of some of these things and then get some sleep," the mayor ordered. "Full meeting at 12 and an address at six. You should be able to get sufficient sleep between now and then."

After a little while, the mayor was left alone. He was furious. No one, except for his selected people, was allowed to trash his town. Gathering himself, he stalked down to his secret ritual room. He cut his palm, dribbled the blood and called a friend.

"What is thy bidding, Richard," came the unearthly voice. This was different from Marv. He/She/It-This-BEING- was not the same at all. He only had three questions and then he had to wait half a year to the day before he could use it again.

"Where did they come from?"

"Ascalhorn."

"Where is Ascalhorn?"

"South and West many leagues."

"What inhabits Ascalhorn?"

"The Never Born, the Twisted Progeny and the Tainted Fey."

And the creature was gone. The mayor was left with more questions than answers.

* * *

Buffy crawled out of her cave to find the sun had already risen above the mountains. She must have been out for hours. She was dirty, exhausted and thirsty. She wanted to just go home. Unfortunately, she could not remember where she was. The Slayer had been in control the entire time so she had not taken note of her location. The flying demons had not helped either. Now she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of orcs nearby, no food, no water and not much clothing left. At least her boots were still in good condition.

"So, pick a direction and start walking," she mused aloud. It must have been her imagination, or a trick of the wind, but she thought she heard a chuckle at that.

* * *

"Trauma to the head, torso and extremities," the EMT reported as they brought in another victim of the assault. There were currently no beds left in the hospitals and no open slots in the morgue. The attack had been bad. They were currently doing triage in the parking lot. Plenty just would not make it in this situation. Ambulances, military transports, helicopters, minivans, anything and everything else were used for transport of the wounded.

"Doesn't look too severe. Give her to a nurse," the ER doctor said.

"Harry, this is Buffy Summers' mother," the EMT argued as the color drained out of the doctor's face. The demon doctor spat out a few words one would not say to their grandmother. "She's getting the works whether you like it or not, Harry."

"Do it. I don't particularly want to join the dead," Dr. Harry replied with a wave of his hand. The demon EMTs rolled the woman in as fast as they could manage, kicked an old guy out of a bed and shanghaied all the specialists they could into working on her. After a while, they were satisfied she was getting proper care and went back to their jobs.

* * *

"What reason do I have to support you in this?" Matron Baenre asked from her ebony and spider silk throne. She was flanked by her true daughters, Quenthel and Triel. They stood over Vierna who cowered before them. This was the seventh time she had mentioned the visitation and it looked like it was going to be the seventh rejection of aid.

"I was commanded to find him, the rogue, Drizzt," Vierna pleaded to her adoptive mother. "I will not live through the Underdark and I doubt that I will be able to return him successfully on my own. There was a reason he was the Weapon Master of House – that house – at such a young age."

"And so you beg and plead," the withered old matron said with derision. She made it sound like it was equivalent to serving manure at a fancy dinner.

"Matron Mother, it is clear that she does not know her place," Triel said with a similar tone. "She forgets who she owes for her life thus far."

"Indeed," Quenthel commented darkly. "She should remember we have no reason to assist you. Nor do we see any benefit from doing so."

Vierna's heart sunk in despair. Had the Handmaiden simply told her this to taunt her? Was it some sort of punishment? If it was not, what was she doing wrong? At least she had held back the part about restarting House Do'Urden. Had she mentioned that little tidbit, she would have been dead before her mouth closed.

* * *

Above the houses of Menzoberranzan the air shook with a force that knocked the residents to the ground. A dark, twisted mist spun from a tornado. The force of the wind destroyed the compound of the twenty-third House utterly and nearly shattered the walled compound of the seventeenth. The tornado continued on, touching some houses, leaving others clear, until it reached the compound of the First House, House Baenre.

The swirling mists struck the dome of the Baenre chapel, leaving a jagged piece of empty space in the ceiling. The remains never fell, but were destroyed utterly, so not even dust remained where the mist touched. The mist of spiders coalesced into the form of a dark elf of such size that all of Menzoberranzan witnessed her presence and heard her voice. She was a creature of unnatural, deadly beauty. She pointed down at the Matron Mother with one outstretched finger.

"YVONNE BAENRE!!! YOU SHALL GIVE TO HER YOUR LOST SON!!! ALL THAT SHE REQUIRES SHALL COME FROM YOURS," the manifestation commanded in a voice that allowed for no argument. Her voice echoed across the entire city. "DO NOT QUESTION HER WORDS!!!"

With that, the manifestation spun and spun returning to mist. A moment later it was gone, leaving only destruction in its wake.

On the other side of the most famous Drow city, a certain leader of a certain mercenary band was stunned in fear. Jarlaxle Baenre said the first words that came to mind. "Oh, shit."

* * *

The Moonwood was one of the last bastions of the old great woods that once covered the southern slopes of the Spine of the World. Although the trees were not as tall as those in the more southern High Forest, they had still lived for hundreds of years, some for thousands and were larger than many human buildings. The city of Moonvines would not be called a city by most humans because most humans forget to look up. The only buildings on the floor were those few which required fire – the baker, the forge and the cookhouse. Everything else was a sweeping treetop conurbation grown, rather than built among the branches of the massive trees.

"I think we should bring her to Sunnydale," Kellindil argued. He was standing in a towering tree house with several other elves. It was the middle of the day, but the heavy trees in the Moonwood shaded so much a human would have been pressed to see well.

"I disagree. We have no knowledge that this, this…Drow can be trusted," Innovindil argued. Her husband agreed.

"No, we cannot trust her wellbeing to the chance that this Drizzt will benevolent," Tarathiel stated flatly.

"What makes you so sure this Drow is different from the others?" asked a third elf, this one a Gold Elf.

"He is living peacefully with humans first of all," answered Kellindil. "He admitted, with much regret, that he had been in the raiding party. He was quiet adamant that he was not party to the murder, though he greatly regrets not stopping his fellows. That is not something one would admit if one was trying to obfuscate the truth. But he was honest in his goal of redemption. Lady Falconhand will verify my words."

"And you say he has purple eyes, like those Ellifain spoke of?" Innovindil asked, a bit hesitant to jump headfirst into the situation.

"Yes, they are that lavender color that sends her into hysterics," Kellindil replied. The elf child, Ellifain, would sometimes break into sobs at the sight of that purple hue. It was a true shame she was unable to heal. "This may be the key to healing her soul."

"It could do more harm than good. As her current guardian, I feel it is too early to decide," said an older elf woman. She was of mixed birth, with a moon elf mother and a wood elf father. She turned back to Kellindil. "Would you go and investigate further, perhaps as an ambassador from the Moonwood? If we change our minds, we will bring her to Sunnydale. I'm sure Hallifain would be willing to escort her to the new city. But before you go, tell us some more of that city."

"It is an interesting departure from the normal human style. There are no walls, no defenses at all," he began. "From all accounts they come from a peaceful region of their world where they have no need to worry about what might come out of the mountains. There is only a small section where the buildings dominate everything. Beyond that, each house has its own yard with trees and grass that they trim down most meticulously."

"Why would they do that?" Tarathiel wondered with a raised eyebrow.

"Truthfully, I have no idea," Kellindil replied with an elven shrug. "But they ride in carriages without horses, but sound like a thunder storm and smell like something rancid burning. Honestly, it is almost enough to make one choke. Their roads are paved flat and sometimes have fields set up for these horseless carriages. They are a very strange people."

"What of these flying machines you spoke of?" another elf asked.

"They are noisy constructs which fly by spinning four wings around in a circle," the elf said. "I find it interesting and horrific all at the same time."

"What are their buildings like?" asked the older elf woman.

"They are incredibly varied," came the answer. "Some are made of stone and stand like castles, others are made of bricks or wood or any other substance. There is no uniformity of style or size. It is difficult to really describe them in any generalization. Some have one floor and wheels, others stand several stories tall, higher than many forts. Truth be told, the only way to truly understand what I mean is to look upon Sunnydale yourselves."

"I shall have to consider it," muttered Innovindil with a slight smile.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Finn, just the man I wanted to see," Giles said, striding up to the Agent.

"Mr. Giles, you are not supposed to be here," Riley said sternly.

"Actually, I am your new boss," Giles said, handing a note from the mayor's office. "The mayor felt that Dr. Walsh was more valuable as a science advisor. As I have more experience with vampires, demons and the forces of darkness, the mayor gave me the position of combining your operation with the Watcher's Council and creating a special group designed to protect the city against said forces in conjunction with the efforts of the Slayer."

"That was…that was a mouthful," commented Agent Finn before he glanced down at the paper. The paper was quite clear. Giles was the new CO of the Initiative. Maggie would not be happy. He clipped a quick salute to Rupert Giles. "Sir, what can I do for you?"

"First of all, I need a team for an operation," Giles said as he sat down in a nearby chair.

"What kind of HST are we going after?"

"You will not be going after any demon," Giles said with a quick cleaning of his glasses. "You will be assisting the senior representatives of the Watcher's Council in finding Buffy Summers."

"Buffy's missing?" Heads turned to look at Forest and Graham who had just arrived.

"Yes, we lost contact with her during the battle last night," Giles explained. "We know that she killed or incapacitated hundreds of demons last night, but she traveled west and began a new battle there with some approaching orcs. There was some sort of disturbance and the scouts were unable to spot her. We have reason to believe she is still alive, however, we do not know where."

"West, that's mostly hills and mountains and a few lakes," Forest said. "I'd say, us, Team 2 and the good half of Team 9."

"You mean the half that doesn't annoy you?" Graham asked with a smirk. Forest returned it full-bore.

"I meant the half that has mountain experience from…various…places," Forest said with heavy suggestion.

"I assume you are referring to so called "black ops" projects?" Giles asked.

"I could possibly be referring to something that possibly could be construed that way," Forest said, "possibly."

"Very well," Giles said, dropping the subject. "I plan to leave in an hour. We will be meeting up with Xander, Willow and Drizzt at the school library."

"What? You're bringing kids along!" Riley was not pleased. "I know what Buffy and Drizzt can do, but you're putting kids in danger!"

"They are hardly children," Giles replied flatly. "They have faced worse obstacles than a search for a friend. And besides, if I were to leave them behind it would only be a matter of time before they caught up to us. It is much safer for them to come with us rather than follow when they realize I have left them behind."

"Even so sir, I want my objections made clear," Riley stated flatly.

"Agent Finn, I understand this is going to be a trying time," Giles said with a bit of a sigh. "I am not a member of the military. I am not even an American citizen. Even so I am now in command of your organization. I was chosen because I have years of experience with the supernatural, much more than many members of this organization. I would even hazard a guess that I was involved with this world of magic and demons before many of you went to kindergarten. My methods might differ from those of your organization, but ultimately, I know what I am doing."

"Understood sir," Riley Finn said with a nod. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll assemble our team."

"I'll see you then," Giles said with a smile. He turned and walked out of the room. It took more time than usual to get to the school. He would have normally used the car, but as with everything, the petrol had been taken by the government to keep the emergency vehicles going. People were just now getting used to walking instead of driving. Some were happier about it than others. Cordelia had been particularly vocal against it. It initially had been difficult for him to arrange access to the library over the summer, but a call from the mayor had stalled any additional argument from Snyder. Striding into the library, Giles was surprised to find a frantic Willow and Xander running over to him.

"I can't find Oz!" The poor girl was frantic. "I called and I looked and nothing!"

"We've been looking since this morning," Xander said. "Willow called earlier this morning. His parents say he never went home last night. He called, but that was about 6 hours before the attack."

"We need to find him," Willow demanded, "He could be hurt!"

"Willow," Giles stated calmly. He rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed just slightly. He absently thought of the young man he had found at his door as he left for the meeting with the mayor the night before. He had not seen someone so plagued by inner demons in some time. Oz was not in town anymore, but it was going to break the poor girl's heart. "Willow, sit down. You as well, Xander, you should both hear this." When they were properly settled in, he pulled out the note. "I spoke with him yesterday. Oz needed to leave."

"No! He can't leave me," protested Willow. Giles just looked at her with as much sympathy as he could muster.

"He was having trouble with the wolf even during a New Moon," Giles said calmly. "He wants you to know he loves you, but he can't stay around as long as he is a danger to us all." He let that sink in for a while. "And though I disagree on how he left, I can understand his need to leave."

"But-but," Willow stuttered. "I-I don't know what to do."

"Giles, this seems a little out of character for Oz," Xander protested.

"Oz has always been a responsible young man and I understand that this is the only way he could keep himself from hurting you," Giles said. He handed her the note. "He didn't want me to give you this until tomorrow, but this letter is for you. There are others for Buffy, Xander and Cordelia of all people." He pulled out Xander's letter and handed it to the young man. "I am going to put some tea on. The soldiers who will be assisting us will be here in one half hour."

Willow sat down to read her letter:

Dear Willow,  
I am writing this because I do not trust myself around you any more. I like you a lot. I love being around you, but until I get better, I can't be anywhere near you. The wolf is too strong. I don't know if I can keep it under control. I find myself thinking of people as prey. Even you.  
It scares me.  
But I don't want to hurt you. Until I get rid of the wolf I cannot be around you. I am taking a translation amulet and some food. With my senses I won't have a problem finding water or things to eat.  
I would like to ask you to wait for me, but that isn't fair. I might never be back. I don't know. Go on with your life and I will try and catch up after I have this licked…no pun intended.  
Love,  
Oz

Xander read his letter at the same time, but there was much less to cover:

Xander,  
If I come back as a monster, help Buffy put me down.  
Oz

* * *

"Tea," Giles said, setting a cup in front of each of his charges. It was his special tea, prepared in the true British style. "Drink. You are going to need to be sharp for today."

"How could he do this Giles?" Willow actually was crying now.

"Oz is a very mature young man," the watcher said simply. "He felt it was best to not be in a position where he could hurt you. I happen to agree."

"But-but-"

"Wills, he's right," Xander said, speaking up for the first time since he read the letter. He put an arm around his best friend's shoulders and gave her a quick hug. "He wants you to be safe. This was the safest thing he could do: for both of you."

Willow was about to argue when the Initiative agents walked in. They were in full battle gear with both conventional and blasters with additional power packs. They had come prepared for every eventuality and had ended up with quite a bit of gear. "Mr. Giles, I believe we are ready to go now."

"Willow, Xander, I believe you both know Agents Finn, Miller and Gates," Giles said. "They and the other agents are going to assist us in the Search for Buffy."

"Do we really need them?" asked Xander, he was trying to look tough, but it was less than successful.

"Xander, it has been many years since I have hiked in mountains without a trail," Giles said with a pinch of his nose. "I would feel much safer around people who are trained in these operations."

"Okay, if that's all, we should get going before too long," Riley suggested.

"Quite right, we should stop by the Summers' house and pick up Drizzt," Giles said. "I am sure Joyce will want to know about this."

When they arrived at the house they knew something was seriously wrong. Revello Drive was trashed. At first glance there was more visible damage than almost any other place in town. Three buildings were completely torched. Others had walls bashed in. The teams rushed to the Summers home, dodging infrastructure workers who were attempting to keep the roads clear for emergency vehicles. Inside they found a very confused and worried Drizzt attempting to fix some of the wreckage.

"Drizzt," Giles rushed into the house and grabbed the dark elf by the shoulders. The others quickly rushed in to inspect the rest of the house. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine," Drizzt replied numbly.

"Where is Joyce?"

"She got hurt," Drizzt said in that same monotone. "I tried to help, but I didn't know what to do. Then some people came to take her away. They had the symbol of your healers."

"Symbol of healers?" Xander asked, a little confused.

"He means the snake and rod thing," Forest answers. "The symbol you see on hospitals and ambulances."

"Oh," said Xander quietly. "Oh! That means Joyce is at the hospital!"

* * *

Buffy reached the top of a mountain after an hour of hiking at Slayer speed and dodging a few orcs that wandered around the valley. Even a month after Sunnydale had arrived, the valley was littered with the trunks of the flattened glade. Each tree was knocked down in the same direction, with only a few survivors that were protected by natural rock formations. She had not been outside the city proper since that first full day. And considering that her attention was focused on other things, she had not taken much of an opportunity to sightsee.

It was beautiful. The landscape looked painted, almost unreal. Snow gleamed in the cracks of the mountains, highlighting the topography of sharp peaks and vast valleys that melted into rolling hills. Eagles and hawks soared around mountain tops and mountain sheep bounded around the slopes. And it was amazingly silent, like any human made noise would disrupt the order.

Beyond that, far to the southwest, at the very edge of where she could see, she spotted what looked like a city shaped like a tooth reaching up from the plains. It was like some great horn protruded from the grasslands. It was a shocking white above the black stone that protruded from the green and brown grasslands below. Buffy was fascinated by the tiny gleam at the farthest reach of her vision. She felt drawn to it in a way she knew well. It was the same feeling she had just before she faced the Master.

The beautiful spot on the horizon was Hellgate Keep.

To the south she finally spotted Sunnydale. It looked so small at this distance, a little green and brown gem in the middle of the mountains. She suddenly realized she was many miles away from home; the fight with the Vrocks and her hike had taken her much farther away from the plane-shifted city than she had anticipated. North of the city was an impressive lake. It was miles long with mountaintops for islands. On the north end of the lake was what appeared to be a village. She almost missed it at first because she didn't recognize the buildings. A month of the lake filling up had flooded the place. Buffy suddenly had an inkling of where those orc families might have come from.

She started hiking along the edge of the mountains, afraid that she would loose her way if she couldn't see the city. These weren't the highest peaks, by any stretch of the imagination, but they were taller than anything she had ever climbed before. The high altitudes gave her a sense of lightheadedness, but she loved it. The mountain air was so clear, so free from smog, that it was like looking at a photograph. Everything seemed to be not quite real.

She leapt from perch to perch, jumping over wide divides and open chasms. More than once she got her feet completely wet, but the cool water felt refreshing on her tired feet. They were starting to ache, so she sat down at a waterfall and tried to pull off the boots. Unfortunately, her new boots were not designed for hiking. Grimacing as she pulled the boots off her swollen feet she suddenly realized they were full of blood. The red leather had covered up and she had ignored the pain. Grumbling, she rinsed the blood off both her feet and boots, letting the cool mountain water run over her. She lost track of time as she gave her feet time to heal. Even with her slayer regeneration, with the way they had been recently it was taking some time.

One of the biggest problems of fast healing is the lack of calluses. Usually when a person uses a tool that can prick or chaff, after a long time, they will build up a callus. She healed too fast, so the callus never formed. This was the same problem with her boots. As soon as she started back up again, she could feel the same pressure building up on her heel. Half the problem was her choice of footwear. High-heeled boots might be fine in central Sunnydale with nice flat roads, but they were not designed to hike in. Certainly not with only a thin sock.

As she climbed higher and higher, her range of view increased dramatically. She could see beyond the high hills that surrounded Sunnydale and down into the forest beyond. It was a different color from the other trees around and seemed to glow. Perhaps glow was not the best word. There was a presence about it, a feeling of familiarity and want that pulled her in a way almost opposite from the disturbing city she had seen earlier. It was calling her.

And then she fell in a hole.


	20. Chapter 20

"Ms. Summers?"

Joyce heard the voice and felt a tinge of pain at her temple. She opened her eyes to see Dr. Amelia Chung standing over her. A quick glance revealed she was in the hospital. "Dr. Chung. I'm in the hospital."

"Do you know what happened last night?" the doctor asked.

"I remember hearing the announcement for everyone to get indoors and lock themselves in," Joyce replied, gingerly touching the bandage on her head. "After locking up, I was waiting for Drizzt and Buffy to get back home. I heard a crash from the kitchen and this thing jumped out at me…and then I woke up here."

"Well, it attacked you," Amelia said softly. "Drizzt found you and handed you over to the paramedics who were sweeping the neighborhood. You were brought here and after some tests, I have some good news and some not so good news and then some better news."

"Go on, Amelia," Joyce prompted.

"You're head wound is not serious," she replied. "You have some swelling and a possible concussion, which is why I want you to stay put."

"And the bad news?"

"The paramedics and hospital staff were perhaps a little overzealous in their testing last night," Amelia continued. "They performed tests that normally you should have been asked about, many more tests than would normally be given for your sort of injury. If you want to investigate this further, I can put you in contact with the legal department later. But first, several of these tests revealed a spot in your brain."

"A-a spot?"

"Tests confirm that it is a tumor," Amelia said with a sad smile.

"A tumor, a brain tumor," Joyce said numbly.

"But here is where the better news comes in," Amelia said with a comforting smile. "In a couple of years it could have been far too severe to treat without surgery. We caught it early, so there are many treatments to choose from. You are very lucky to have this spotted now."

"What should I do?" Joyce asked, unable to know exactly what to say.

"I am going to send in a specialist who can help you with the specifics of your case," Amelia said, giving the older woman a hug. Neither woman noticed the man looking in from the hallway. He smiled at their strength of will and started walking down the hallway. He raised an eyebrow as he spotted the Scooby Gang running in to meet up with Joyce. Ducking inside a patient's room, he began glancing at a chart so as to not be noticed.

"Hello there," he looked up to see an elderly woman sitting up in bed. Unlike the others in the ward, this woman was bright eyed and did not appear to be sick.

"Hello," the man replied. "I noticed you are in here because of a history of kidney failure."

"Oh, but that was a long time ago," she replied. "I was living in San Francisco at the time. 1986 that was. I was on daily dialysis back then. I met this nice young doctor, don't remember his name, of course. He gave me a medicine and I was better quite quickly. I'm really fine now. They just don't want to take chances with a hundred year old woman."

"I will be honest, I would have never guessed you could be that old," he replied.

"Yes, I feel like I'm sixty again," the elderly patient said with a winning smile. "Are you a doctor?"

"I used to be. I haven't practiced in several years," he admitted. "But your chart says they are worried about your osteoporosis."

"I had a fall last night," she said. "but I'm really fine. I feel like I could walk back to the home." She accented the point by slapping her leg.

"Let me take a look," He walked over and looked at her legs. She was a little too thin for a woman her age. "Have you been eating right?"

"Oh, I have a bit of the sweet tooth," she said with a sheepish smile.

"You should eat a full meal every night," he reached into his pocket and placed a tiny bowl on her tray. Inside were two white pills. "Take this with your next meal and call me in the morning."

"I thought you said you didn't practice anymore?" the elderly woman asked.

"Oh, after last night I felt the need to help," he said honestly. "My mother doesn't approve, but I do what I can."

"Well, I approve, young man."

"Young is a relative term," he smiled at her with a glint in his eye. "I'm much older than I look."

* * *

"Mrs. Summers! Are you okay?" Joyce looked over to see Xander and Willow burst through the curtain surrounding her bed. Drizzt hovered hesitantly at the door to the room.

"It's just a bump, I'll be out of here before you know it," she replied. "Where's Buffy?"

"Buffy is missing, Joyce," Giles said, standing at the doorway. "We are about to go search for her."

"What happened?"

"She went out and fought the demons that attacked last night," Giles explained. "We lost track of her somewhere to the west."

"What happened to my baby?"

"We know that she is alive," Willow said. "There was this creepy little girl who showed up and told us where to look. And we have a Buffy-Compass." She brandished the gaudy brass compass that didn't point north.

"Good." She didn't care if it was magic or technology, she just wanted Buffy safe. Now more than ever. She leaned over to look at Drizzt. "I heard that you helped me out last night." The dark elf visibly flinched. "You may have saved my life." She turned back to the group as a whole. "You find my little girl and bring her back to me, you hear?"

"We will, Joyce," Giles said, as he ushered them out. He nodded to the chart with a look. She just mouthed 'later' and shook her head.

When the Scooby Gang finally left, the lurking man turned around to bump right into a familiar face.

"Amaunator, what brings a greater deity to a hospital like this," the man said. "Slumming it in an avatar?"

"I go by Lathander now," the sun deity of healing glanced around nervously. "You-you-your mother's not here is she?"

"Oh, she's around," the man said with an evil grin. "And so is my sister." Lathander replied with a snarl of a word that contained such dreadful power that seven people in hearing went into cardiac arrest. "Language, Lathander. Never use Dark Speech in a hospital."

The greater deity blinked his eyes once and the people were healed. "Forgive me."

"Oh, I haven't forgiven you for the last time," the man said with a smile that was anything by happy. "Don't expect anything different from me this time around."

"I will remember that," the deity said nervously. "Why are you here?"

The man shrugged. "Why are we anywhere?"

"Everywhere your family goes destruction follows," the deity said as a fact.

"Change follows us, occasionally followed by destruction," the man corrected. "I have walked worlds you cannot even imagine, Lathander, and the only constant was change."

"Change brings destruction," Lathander protested.

"To build a better house you have to remove the old one," the man said flatly. "Destruction is ultimately a force of creation."

"This is an old argument," Lanthander replied.

"Yes, it is," the man continued stubbornly. "As old as the universe and older."

"I meant that we should drop it because we will never agree," Lathander said as they moved out of the way so a new patient could arrive.

"Then go back to healing these people," the man commanded. "And stay out of our business."

"You know that isn't my way," Lathander said with a flash of anger.

"I don't care," the man said with a slight laugh. "And tell Bahamut and Tiamat that Sunnydale is under my personal protection."

"I'm not your messenger boy," the sun deity snarled.

"And I don't give a flying fuck," said the man as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh, and my mother would like you to tell Mystra that her Weave is not the only game in town anymore."

"She is not going to like that," Lathander said with a look of horror.

"If I don't care, do you think Mother will?"

Lathander gaped at him for a moment and then shook his head. "No, she won't."

"Good, we have come to an understanding," the man said simply. He turned and started walking away.

"Netheril wasn't my fault," Lathander called after him. Suddenly, his verbal opponent was right in his face.

"You abandoned them when a single mortal made a mistake. A big mistake, but a single mistake. It only affected Mystryl, not the rest of you," the man said with a voice that radiated venom and wrath. "You abandoned them to their fate. History may have forgotten, but I haven't."

The two shared a glare of rage for a long moment before they turned in opposite directions and stalked away.

* * *

The healthiest Zhentarim survivors were patched up to the point that they could walk. Each member of Peris' team was blindfolded and the hands were bound with impressive sets of manacles. One by one they were lead to something and forced to walk up a small set of stairs before forced to sit down. Peris counted the steps from the tent to the stairs, the number of stairs. As soon as he was forced to sit down, he began to count the minutes. There was a sudden roar and an increase in acceleration. Minutes went by as he counted silently. There was very little speaking while they moved, and what little there was, he understood nothing.

He had almost counted twelve minutes when the movement suddenly stopped. Soon he and his people were manhandled down and stuffed into a small room. He heard the doors close and had a sudden sensation of falling. It was not even a minute before the sensation stopped with a small jolt. They were then marched out again into a brightly lit area. He could see no specifics, but whatever spell lit the area was very bright.

He was marched with the others and placed into new room. He knew the difference because it was the first step he had taken since they had left the small room. There was a strange sound that went from right to left and then he was sat in a chair. The manacles were removed from his wrists and the blindfold was removed. That same strange sound went from left to right again. Blinking, he adjusted to the bright light. He, with about half of his surviving people were locked in a room just barely large enough for them to all sleep on the floor. Glass made up one wall. He punched it only to recoil in pain. It was far stronger than any glass he had ever seen.

He looked over to the opposite wall. There was a similar cell which contained the rest of his team and other cells on either side for as far as he could see. Looking up, he realized the ceiling was far, far above the floor. He assumed the same could be said for his side as well. Absolutely everything was painted white or gray. Every so often he would see a guard walk between the lines of cells, armed with some kind of blunderbuss.

"Sir, everyone present is awake," one of his surviving mages reported. He nodded. "The Tiefling is not present with us. Nor are several others."

"That is troubling," Peris mused. "Did anyone see him in the healer's tent?" There was a resounding negative. Peris used a bit of hand-signing to communicate with the others on the other side. The response was still negative. "They must have kept him separate from us. Though it is a bit odd that he would be separated when the other nonhumans are kept with us."

"Perhaps he escaped?"

"I hope he doesn't cause more problems for us," Peris mused. "Lord Manshoon is going to be displeased as it is."

* * *

The tiefling had escaped. It was not an easy task. It had taken a couple of spells and a few tricks no one knew that he knew. It is no minor thing to cast spells when drugged and bound and he hoped that the secret wouldn't be exposed.

He had managed to find one of the tunnels under the city. He heard the sound of rushing water under his feet, so he made sure not to take anything that lead further downwards. He knew that this was only a temporary measure and that soon Sunnydale soldiers would start making sweeps below to ensure that none of the attackers survived. He had to complete his mission and get back to Lord Manshoon. Running for all that he was worth, he managed to get a good distance away from the place where he had entered. After some minutes, he had found a passageway up. The passageway was clearly not built by the others. This one was rough and was clearly much older than the others. Clamoring up the steep slope, he noticed it branched, with one moving on towards the surface and another off to the side.

A quick glance revealed a large cave complex that had been converted into a living space. The cavern as a whole looked like a cross between a holy site and a madman's hovel. The remains of candles that had long since burned out were littered over almost every surface. Ancient books were stacked up high in book cases and a large pool was in the middle of the room. There was a strange stone palette which looked like someone had worn a hole in it, almost as if someone had spent decades resting on it. There was more than a year's worth of dust on the entire room, like it had been undisturbed in that whole time. He had found a place to stay. Not liking the idea of trying to escape during daylight, he cast a spell that disguised the entrance as just another part of the tunnel. Unless someone was to walk right into the wall, they would not be able to tell the difference. The only problem was food.

His answer came a few hours later when a human walked by. Or at least it looked human. The Tiefling realized the creature was among the undead as soon as the first spell, one to improve relations with a single creature, had failed completely. The second, a spell to command the undead, worked wonders.

The creature stopped dead in its tracks and looked at him. Carefully, he beckoned it towards him, but not into his new living quarters. Casting a spell of translation, he spoke to the vampire for the first time.

"I require food," he commanded. "You will go and get me some." The creature dutifully obeyed, trudging back up the way it came. He noticed a feeling of fear when it glanced at where he had come from. There was clearly more to investigate. When the vampire returned, he would go about forcing it to teach him the local language. He would need it in order to perform his task for Lord Fzoul.

* * *

The team was finally fully prepared for the trip. Forest and another Initiative agent (one none of the others knew) took point and tasked themselves with finding the best route. So far it had not been very difficult. Most of the walk was around Lake Sunnydale and they weren't even close to being done. Buffy was clearly moving, but seemed to be far away since the Buffy-compass moved very slowly.

"Whoa! The needle just moved fast," Willow yelled. She had been tasked with keeping track of it. She was glad she had something to do, because it kept her mind off Oz's vanishing act.

"Are you sure it wasn't you moving the compass?" Riley asked. He still wasn't sure that following a compass that didn't point north was the best of ideas.

"No, it was a quick back and forth motion," Willow said, using a quick hand motion as an example. She turned the compass on its side. "And now you can see she went down fast. She was pointing much higher before."

"She might have fallen," Xander said as he rested beside her. He was not used to hiking with a full backpack, but he was doing better than anyone else had expected for his first time.

"This is a good place to rest, so let us just scout around," Agent Finn suggested. He glanced at his team and then at the other Initiative agents. "Team 3, you're with me. Everyone else keep a lookout and drink your water. Yes, all of it. We can refill and purify water at the end of the lake before we head up into the mountains."

Giles was very concerned about Drizzt. He had shifted from the rather upbeat young fellow he had come to know. Apparently seeing Joyce unconscious had unhinged something in him. It was clear that her comfort had not been enough for the young elf. Drizzt was barely even a teenager in elf terms. Giles was not arrogant enough to think he knew everything about elven psychology, but he did have some insight into the young elf.

"Drizzt," the watcher said as he sat down next to the dark elf. "You seem to be having a difficult time right now."

"I am fine," Drizzt said. "I am just a little sore from overexerting myself yesterday."

"I was not referring to your physical health, though I am glad you are not hurting," said Giles before taking a sip of water. "What happened to Joyce is troubling you, is it not?" Drizzt hung his head.

"Yes, I can see it is," Giles stated dryly. "You did save her life, you know."

"So, she is going to be fine?" was the questioning reply.

"Yes, the doctors think so," Giles answered. "What is troubling you about it?"

"The fact that I didn't know anything about what to do," Drizzt said in a quiet voice.

"Then the only thing to do is learn," replied Giles with a shrug of his shoulders. "If you do not know something, ask and you shall receive as many answers as there are people. I should have known something like this would happen eventually. You have no experience, even through tales, of Sunnydale culture. I imagine the culture shock is quite drastic."

"What is 'culture shock'?"

"Yes, well, that is whenever you go to a place where there are dramatically different customs and you have a difficult time dealing with the new sensations," Giles said. "When we get back we can practice as much as possible."

"I believe I require that," Drizzt said.

"Then it's settled," said Giles. "Now all we need to do is find Buffy."

* * *

Buffy was not going to be easy to find. In her inadvertent tumble into the crevice, she had managed to end up in some great hole in the ground. The sudden darkness made it almost impossible for her see properly past a certain point. Slayer sight was great in some respects (being able to see in dark alleys at night being a required when fighting vampires), but there was a limit to everything. She seemed to be past that limit now.

It was cooler in the caverns than it had been on the mountain. Walking forward, she winced as she realized how much damage the fall had done. Touching her side, she felt the all-too-familiar warm wetness of her own blood seeping down her side. Cursing her stubbornness, she moved forward, looking for a way to get back up to where she came from. Wandering around, she realized she had not fallen down a chute, but into a large cavern of some sort. There was nothing around for her to stumble over, which was strange in a cave. Any cave she had walked through had stuff littering the floor all over the place. The Master's cave was a trash heap compared to this one.

As the minutes went by, she started to make out shapes little by little. To anyone else it would have been complete darkness, but the hole in the ceiling of the cave provided enough light for her to see a little. It reminded her of the Indiana Jones movie, the one with the Nazis and not the kid, Short Run? Something like that. From what she could see there were buildings hewn out of stone. She had heard that the dwarves lived underground, but this seemed too tall for dwarves, almost as if it was made for someone human sized, maybe a little taller than she was.

They looked like houses but they were built right out of stone, with apartments going up to the ceiling. Stone steps zig-zagged up the sides with balconies cut out for access. She walked along, her heavy boots seemed to echo like thunder in the cave city. As she wandered further in, she realized she was not alone.

Buffy had never been good at sensing enemies. When she was in combat, everything was tuned towards defeating her enemies, and she seemed to have complete control over her battlefields in most cases. But she was not very good with surprise. She was surrounded. The numbers were against her by far.

"Well, well, Buffy the Vampire Slayer," said an unfamiliar voice with the unmistakable vampire lisp from the fangs. "I am surprised to see you here. Of course, you are surprised to see us." Buffy decided flippancy was the best response. "Or perhaps you don't see us at all."

"Meh, I figured I would have to take you guys out eventually," she said with a shrug and faux confidence. "We were wondering where you guys had gone."

"You know, my Sire, Spike, he used to talk about the joys of Slayer Blood," the unnamed vampire said with a tinge of hunger in her voice. "He would talk about it day and night. He killed two, you know. He always encouraged us to do the same."

"Well, he tried to kill me and he still failed," Buffy said with a false smirk. "And before we fight, are you going to be a reoccurring Big Bad, or are you going to be a dust-ball-of-the-week kind of bad?"

"I am only reoccurring if we encounter each other more than once," the vampire said, this time from a different place around her. "If I kill you, we encounter each other only once."

"You know, the Master tried that, and look at where that got him," Buffy smirked. She turned, trying to get a handle of the vampire's motion.

"It scares you, doesn't it?"

"What scares me?"

"That we can see you, but you cannot see us," taunted her enemy.

"Scared? Nah, it's just annoying when I have to hunt you guys down in the dark," Buffy bantered back.

In truth she was scared. Very scared. The odds had not been this bad since her first week at Sunnydale when they discovered Jesse had been turned. And this time she didn't have Xander around to help. She could hear the vampires closing in. Springing up, she flipped onto a balcony two stories up. This would give her the advantage as long as there weren't any vampires inside the building. Hopefully there were only stairs on the outside. She rushed up the stairs as far as she could, quickly outdistancing the vampires, but there were only six levels before she would hit the ceiling. She glanced at the hole she fell in. It was the only source of light in the complex and most of the room was covered in darkness. She did not even know how large the cavern was. Taking a chance, she backed up on the balcony to get a good runway. Charging her Slayer speed to the max, Buffy sprinted across the balcony and pushed off with all her mystically enhanced strength, propelling herself into the air. If she fell her she could break a leg or worse. Her hands were outstretched and she prayed that the shadow she saw on the ceiling entrance had a ledge she could grip. It didn't.

Flying through the air, her graceful leap sent out of whack from her fingers scraping across the entrance, she tumbled towards another tower apartment building. Letting fly a swear her mother didn't know she knew, Buffy spun her body and bounced off the second building to land on the middle balcony of a third building. Almost immediately two orcish vampires leapt out at her. Trusting Mr. Pointy, she dusted them in no time.

"I expected you to do that, Slayer. I know how you think, how you will react, what you feel when you're overpowered and outnumbered," said the voice. "I know everything about Slayers. After all, I used to be one."


	21. Chapter 21

"So, what's the plan?"

Xander was concerned because no one had said anything for the past couple of miles.

"What do you mean?" asked Giles.

"We know Buffy's underground because of the compass, but how do we get in there?"

"That's a very good question," Giles replied with a suddenly worried look. "Drizzt? Do you have any ideas?"

"Since there are orcs in the area, I suspect there are caverns as well. Orcs do not usually like being out in the open. Something must have happened to drive them out and onto the plains," the dark elf replied. "Although there could be plenty of other underground structures in the area. This was once part of Delzoun, an ancient Dwarven nation. In that case there could be an abandoned city nearby. Other nations of various other races have had cities in the area as well. Legends speak of the Netherese Empire having outposts in the area as well. It could be anything. My knowledge is limited because of my specialized education."

"That leaves us with far too many possibilities for my liking," grumbled Riley. He glanced around the area with binoculars before pointing to one side of the lake. "Though, I suspect part of the problem with the orcs is the flooded village up ahead."

"A village?" Riley handed over his binoculars to the watcher. "Interesting. I should like to investigate this when we are closer."

"What do you see?" Willow asked.

"Not much," Giles said as he handed the binoculars back to him. "I cannot see any caverns in the side of the mountains, though they seem to be sedimentary at higher elevations and metamorphic at lower levels. I can see several places where igneous rock has formed from fissures. I suspect this area is quite geologically active at some times. That, at least, will feel like southern California again."

"So, there are rocks," Xander said with a bit of disappointment. "We kinda knew that already."

"Yes, but the type of rock can determine many possibilities beyond 'there are rocks.' You should take a geology class, it is important to know," Giles recommended. "Some rocks are more likely to have natural caverns than others. However, this does not help us if the caverns were made by people, like Drizzt suggests."

"I suggest we start looking at a higher elevation. I don't see anything that suggests a recent disturbance, nor any place steep enough for a fall like Willow noticed," Graham commented, glancing at both Giles and Riley. "The entrance might be up there, an old sink hole or something. I've seen limestone boulders here and there seems to be matching stone higher in the mountains."

"You're right, that does sound like a good place to start," Riley said, he turned to Giles. "I suggest we start looking for a place to climb after we round the lake."

"I agree," Giles said. He glanced back at Willow and Xander. Both were quite tired at this point. Giles doubted that either had ever spent this much time on a hike. "We should get going before it gets too late."

* * *

"What do you mean you used to be a Slayer?" Buffy could barely believe her ears. Could this be one of the women Spike killed that made him a legend. She couldn't remember where they were from. "Are you the old one, or the one from the seventies?"

"Oh, you did your research like a good old Slayer," the voice taunted, getting closer than before.

"Nah, Giles always used to try, but it ended up being Willow and Xander who did most of the work," Buffy said with a chuckle. She was getting more confidant after her giant leap. "I was stake girl mostly."

"Oh, a slacker Slayer," the voice said again, even closer this time. "This will be entertaining."

"You never did answer my question," Buffy said. "That's kinda rude, you know."

"So you're more upset that I was rude than the fact that I am going to kill you," the former vampire slayer chuckled.

"Hey! People try to kill me all the time, only one succeeded," Buffy said with her arms resting indignantly on her hips. She cocked her head to listen to the numbers running up the stairs; there were at least seven. "At least they were honest about it."

"Even Angelus?"

"Hey, that's a low blow," Buffy called out as she stepped around the corner from the stairs.

"You know, he used to brag about you, about what he was going to do to you," her opponent said with a bit of glee.

"Yeah, yeah, heard it all," Buffy said, trying not to let the hurt show through her voice. "Threatened my friends, killed my teacher, tried to end the world. And that brings us up to date."

"That was a pretty bad recap if you ask me," the slayer-turned-vampire snarked.

"I didn't ask you, so it's all good," Buffy said, throwing her voice. She spun around the corner and dusted a vamp, skidding down the stairs she dusted two more. All three were orcs. "So, been eating orcs; how's that working for you?"

"Not bad, but it's an acquired taste," was the honest reply. "You're doing better than I expected."

"I live to surprise," said Buffy with a grin, as she knocked one vamp into the three behind it. She dusted all four in almost one motion. Two had been human, but didn't look like they were from Sunnydale. She quickly turned and ran as high as she could. Her vision was better this close to the opening without many deep shadows to keep her from spotting the vampires. She leapt over to the next tower, carefully rolling to keep herself from injuring her already tender feet.

"Hit and run tactics. Clever," said the vampire. "But not clever enough."

Buffy ducked instinctively as a huge battle axe hit where her head was a moment before. She struck out with her hand, knocking the axe out of the vampire orc's grasp and staked him with Mr. Pointy with her other hand. She hefted the weapon in one hand. "Nice axe, and no, that wasn't a proposition."

"You are strong," the voice said with honest appreciation. "Even I would have to wield that with two hands."

"What can I say? They made me better, faster, stronger," Buffy taunted as she kicked an unlucky vamp off a ledge. "Faster than a speeding orc; able to decapitate two vampires in a single swing; leap from tall buildings in a single bound. You know, that kind of thing."

"You're mixing your pop culture references," chided the vampire. Buffy took out four more vampires and collected a few other of the huge axes. Pocketing Mr. Pointy for emergencies, she started swinging the two axes around so she could fight her way up the staircase. The former Slayer had anticipated her latest jump and sent a great number of the orcs up the staircase.

"And you're just sacrificing minions left and right," Buffy said as she spun around, taking out those closest to her.

"The mission's what matters."

* * *

"I think I found an entrance," one of the other Initiative agents reported. The rest of the rescue team scrambled up the slope towards the woman. She was a tall auburn-haired woman and had seen her share of the world, though she had yet not been in direct combat. She had been hiking and rock climbing for years and was one of the best in the Initiative for this kind of work. Agent Finn slipped in beside her. "It leads farther in. I think it is carved rather than natural. Though it's been weathered, it has the same basic proportions of a doorway."

"Good work, Agent Carmichael," Riley said with a smile. He looked down at the rest of the team. "We should rest here."

"Oh, thank god," Xander said, throwing himself down on a spare boulder. He was exhausted. "How can you people keep going like this?"

"Exercise, Xander," Forest said with a grin. "You should try it some time."

"And here, I thought that was what I was doing helping Buffy hunt vampires every night," the teen said with a bit too much drama.

"Different muscles are used when you hike," Graham said. "And this was a long hike without a trail. Even I'm feeling winded."

"Graham is right, this was a hard walk," Giles said, setting himself down next to Willow and Xander. "I haven't felt this good since I was living in the west of England. I would go hiking ever day."

"Was that part of your Ripper days?" Willow asked. Giles cringed.

"No, actually. It was both before and after I went as Ripper," Giles said, taking a long draught from his canteen. "It is near my family home. I would walk out in back of the house and climb the mountains. The mountain air is quite invigorating."

"May I ask? Ripper?" Graham asked as he also took a drink.

"Ah, a remnant from an ill-spent youth," Giles said.

"According to my folks, that's what I'm having right now," Graham commented. At their looks he shrugged. "My parents don't agree with my decision to join up. I think it has something to do with their experiences with Vietnam. Dad was a draft dodger and Mom's brothers were all killed. I did this to pay for college. It's not like I became a Republican or something."

"I think your mom's got reason to worry," Willow said.

"I think it's worse than that," Graham said. "My family doesn't live in Sunnydale. As far as they're concerned I'm dead."

"Oh," Willow shrank back a little. "I kinda know what you mean. My parents went off to Seattle to visit the Crane brothers, a couple of people they knew from school. I'll probably never see them again."

"You have my sympathies," Graham said honestly. "What does it look like Riley?"

"It goes in a good way," Riley said. "Farther than we could see with the flashlight. It definitely is made by people, not nature."

"That's good right, 'cuz Buffy's in there right?" Willow asked frantically. "I know she's alive because the compass keeps moving, but do we know if we're going in the right way?"

"I want to know why you guys trust a compass to point to a person and not north," Forest said with an honestly confused look.

"Magic is very real, Forest," Giles said before taking another sip of water. "There are a great many spellcasters in Sunnydale and on Earth. You yourself saw Lady Alustriel flying on a chariot of fire. The source of this item is clearly a powerful spellcaster, possibly a demon lord or similar creature."

Suddenly the creature in question was right directly in his face. She was standing on his knees, with her fists on her hips as she leaned in close to glare at the watcher. Drizzt, having been silent this entire time, felt the blood drain away from his face at the sight of the dark elf girl. There was a…perfection to her features that was utterly unnatural. She was a thing of beauty and nightmares all at the same time.

"You…you poophead! You don't get to call me a demon! I'm not a demon!" the girl practically screamed in Giles' face, forcing him to lean backwards. In some miraculous feat of agility, the girl actually managed to lean forward so she kept the same distance from his face, no matter how far he leaned back.

"I apologize for referring to you as a demon," Giles said diplomatically. "If you could tell us what you actually are, I am sure we could refer to you by the proper term."

She seemed oblivious to the guns pointed at her. She looked down her nose at Giles as she crossed her arms. She emanated an aura of superiority. She then just as abruptly turned and jumped in front of Willow.

"Give me Auntie," the girl said with an outstretched hand. Willow eeped and then reached into her backpack to pull out the skull. The girl grinned as she took the skull back. Turning to face Forest, she leapt up onto the tip of his gun. Forest stumbled back, but was surprised to not feel any weight. "You don't believe. I don't like people who don't believe. Auntie says it isn't good to lie, so I don't lie."

"Who's Auntie?" Forest said, turning so the gun was not in line with anyone else in the team. The girl brandished the white skull.

"This is Auntie."

"That's a skull."

"Yes. And Auntie talks to me."

"Kid, skulls don't talk."

"Stupid monkey."

"Hey!"

"Stupid, stupid monkey!"

"Now, let's not get into a name calling match," Xander said, motioning for the Initiative agents to put down their weapons. He turned to the girl, who was still perched on the end of Forest's gun. "Why are you here?"

"To get Auntie. I wasn't supposed to leave her behind."

"Then why don't you take her and go where you need to be."

"Because these idiots don't believe me and he called me a demon."

"I think we're in full belief now," said Riley tersely.

"Why are you playing with Sunnydale?" Giles asked. "Why is your family so focused on our town?"

"You represent the thing nearly every deity fears most."

"And what are the gods afraid of," Riley asked, he wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but he was bound and determined to find as much as possible before things went FUBAR.

"Change," she said with a dark grin and vanished. She vanished like the Cheshire Cat from Lewis Carroll stories: first the body, then the eyes, then the diabolical grin. Drizzt stared after her. Her actions were nothing like the dark elves he had grown up with. That kind of behavior would have been beaten out of her or she would have been killed. She was not then a true dark elf, Drizzt knew; she was something else that merely wore the form of one.

"Boss, this is some freaky shit," Forest said, lowering his gun.

"You don't know the half of it," Xander said. "Last night she and her brother appeared in the WAR room." The teen grinned at the response of the Initiative agents. "General Hennessey was not pleased."

"From her brother's words last night, I have the suspicion she is not supposed to be talking to us," Giles said. "She seems like a child, but at the same time something else entirely. I shall have to consult my books when we return."

"We have to find Buffy first," Willow said tersely.

"Yes, of course," said Giles, but he was partially lost in thought.

"We should get going if we want to get out before the batteries run out on our lights," Riley said, trying to keep himself together. The best way for him to function was to return to being a soldier.

"So, 'Once more unto the breach, dear friends,'" Giles said with a smile. "'Once more.'"

"I have no idea what you just said," replied Forest.

"We just shrug and keep going," said Xander. "We don't understand him and he doesn't understand us."

"Yeah, Giles doesn't even know what 'Spidey Sense' is," Willow put in helpfully.

"It's Shakespeare!" Giles exasperated. "It's one of the most famous quotes of Henry V!"

* * *

"I'm wondering why you don't attack me head-on. You don't seem to fight like Spike at all," Buffy said as she sliced through a bigger group. The axes made things much easier and seemed to resize themselves for her grip, through the blades stayed the same size. Her current tactic was to cut off the limbs of the armed vamps and then cut them down as normal. It was working well until her opponent sent in the big guns: vampire orcs with skills.

These were not like the others, simple cannon fodder. These vampires had power and skill to match it. She had been lazy before, blocking and striking while keeping up the banter. Now she was hard pressed even with her enhanced abilities. These were fighters who were experienced at killing even before they were vampires. She was hard pressed to block their axe strikes, and kept loosing ground to them. At least she was keeping the high ground.

It was like fighting Gabriel on steroids. The old man had skills she didn't even know about and in a duel he had fought her to a standstill. In a real fight she would have crushed him with her superior strength and speed, but he had her hands down when it came to skill. She was starting to realize how much that mattered. Giles had been careful to teach her as much as he could, but there were limits to what a middle aged man could teach a teenaged Slayer. She needed someone who knew how to fight against people like her. Someone with uncommon skill and speed.

Ducking another axe blade, she struck out, chopping off a leg. She finished the falling orc fighter off with one axe, but had to block with her other one almost immediately as the next vampire came up behind it. "So where'd you find the orcs?"

"Oh, here and there," the master vampire said with a grin. "You'd be surprised how many live in these hills."

"I'm kinda surprised you turned all these," Buffy said as she chopped another vamp down the chest. It wasn't a killing blow, but it set it off balance enough to kill it with her other axe. "Usually you guys just drink and run."

"I'm not your usual vampire," her opponent said with a grin Buffy could hear. "And I was not about to let you go after you killed Spike and Drusilla."

"What?" Buffy was so surprised by the comment, she almost had her head cut off by an axe. She retaliated by cutting the leg off her attacker and pushing him down the stairs, knocking her opponents down like dominos. "I didn't kill Spike or Drusilla. They're both still dead and kicking as far as I know. Angel and them left town a while ago."

"But! Spike wouldn't just leave me!"

"Actually, he did. Twice."

"No! You're wrong! Spike loves me!"

"Spike loves himself." Buffy grimaced as the vampires ran up the stairs again. She body checked them, knocking them down again. With a few careful chops she decapitated them before they could get back up. "And you never were a Slayer, were you?" Not waiting for an answer, Buffy threw an axe in the direction she had last heard the voice. She was rewarded with a surprised scream. Buffy leisurely picked up another discarded axe. "You don't really know what a Slayer is, do you?"

Taking a running jump, Buffy choose to instead land in the middle of a pack of vampires and spun around with her axes, destroying all with in reach. Suddenly the orc vampires realized the tables had turned. A moment later there was a lot more space around Buffy. Buffy had changed from the prey to the predator. It was an almost instinctual change, something they could sense, rather than a conscious thought. The neophyte vampires began to run. Buffy threw another axe, that simply spun round and round, dusting vampire after vampire until it clattered to the ground. Buffy walked slowly to where she had thrown the first axe. "How many vampires do you have left?"

She wrenched the axe from where it had embedded itself in the wall. She was relying on her Spidey Sense now, not sight. The vampires were like bright lights in the darkness that kept her oriented. It made her dangerous. She charged after the vampires, hacking and slashing her way through them. They fell one after another. She kept using the walls to her advantage. She would run up staircases and leap onto the escaping undead from above. She was winning and it felt invigorating. But she was in control. Buffy grinned as she slaughtered the vampires. They were afraid, she could taste it in the air.

* * *

At the front of the rescue team, Riley motioned everyone behind him to stop. Glancing back, he pointed at Graham and Forest to accompany him as he went forward. The passage was wide enough for five people to walk side by side easily, seven uncomfortably. When the orc charged them, they had plenty of room to open fire. The others covered their ears as the sound echoed down the long passage way. The orc got back up after being rifled by bullets and the experienced Initiative soldiers understood exactly what happened. Graham pulled out a wooden stake and with the other two distracting it, managed to drive the stake in, reducing it to dust.

"HSTs," Riley reported as the team fell back to the rest of the group.

"Oh, just call them vampires," Xander said derisively.

"It seems we have discovered where the vampires escaped to," Giles said with a grimace. The Initiative agents looked at him confused. "We noticed a severe decrease in the number of vampire attacks three weeks after Sunnydale arrived here."

"So this entire cavern could be filled with vamps?"

"I suppose so."

"Good thing we brought the incendiary grenades," Forest said with a grin. The team spread out and the group moved forward. They met three more vampires; the first two went down like the first, but the third almost got the drop on them; every single one was an orc.

The team moved forward, deeper into the tunnel, until they came to the huge cavern. From across the cavern, Buffy saw the light and started leaping from building to building in an attempt to get to the people before the vampires could. She landed right in front of the team and threw an axe at the oncoming vampire horde. The Agents almost fired at her sudden appearance.

"Hi, guys!" Buffy said. "The place is filled with vamps."

"We noticed," Riley said with a nod.

"Drizzt, want to help?" Buffy said with a questioning look. Drizzt looked at her for a long moment then grinned.

"Sure."

Before anyone could stop them, the Slayer and the Hunter leapt from the perch into the fray. The moment they landed, Drizzt called out Guen and the trio went to work. Guen's claws did little major damage, but she could trap them while Drizzt or Buffy finished them off. From above them, the other humans gaped as three beings mowed through the neophyte vampire hordes. There weren't many left after the next ten minutes. Only two escaped up the ramp, but the Initiative team made short work of them: shooting them first with blasters and then staking them through the heart. Soon any that remained were on the run completely. It would take time to clear them all out, but that could be done some other day. There was only one left that really needed to be hunted down.

When the battle appeared to be over, the "rescue" team joined them in what appeared to be a courtyard. Buffy kept looking around them, making sure nothing else showed up. "There is one more. She claimed to be Spike's kid."

"That is quite disturbing," Giles said honestly. "Even a weak vampire trained by Spike could be a threat."

"She is. She made all of these," Buffy said, gesturing to the dust on the floor. "She also claimed to be a Slayer."

"I seriously doubt that, Buffy," Giles said. He glanced her over to see what kind of shape she was in. her shirt was barely decent and her pants her in shreds, though still keeping a basically pants-shape. He watched as wounds closed right before his eyes. "Spike was only attributed to two Slayer deaths and both of them were ensured true peace."

"What does 'true peace' mean," Xander asked.

"Their heads were removed and placed upside down in their caskets," Giles stated bluntly. "I can only assume it was an elaborate trick by Spike."

"She's smart. She could tell what I was going to do most of the time. If it's a trick it seemed to work," Buffy said. "For a while at least. Drizzt, how are you doing?"

"I feel pretty good actually," the dark elf said with a grin. It was strange how Buffy could always bring him out of his brooding. "I have received more exercise in the past two days than the past two months."

"Same here," Buffy went over and dragged Willow and Xander into a big hug. "Thanks for coming to get me guys."

"Buffster, we couldn't leave you to see the whole world on your own," Xander said with his trademarked grin.

"Yeah, and we really need you back in Sunnydale," said Willow.

"Hey! We helped too!" protested Forest with mock indignation. Buffy just gave him a look. Forest's momentary silence sent the other Initiative Agents into spurts of laughter.

"So what did you find here," Carmichael asked flashing her light around the cavern. "Is this a city?"

"It looks like it," Buffy said. "It has about nine stories in the middle and three on the edge. Buildings go from floor to ceiling. We're under a huge dome, I think."

"You think?"

"It's been kinda dark 'til you guys got here," Buffy said with a laugh. "I'm mostly guessing."

"How big are the buildings?"

"Human sized. They look like a couple apartments to a level. It's a big place," Buffy said. "I wouldn't trust it now. There are plenty of places for vamps to hide. I don't want to come back here until I'm fully armed."

"And what are those," Xander asked, pointing at the axes still in her hands.

"Oh these are just what I had available," She said, hefting them up. They were not particularly attractive weaponry specimens. "They did the job though." She looked back up at the crowd and her stomach growled louder than even Guen usually did. "Does anyone have any food?"

* * *

To the south east of Sunnydale, the Sunnydale Self Defense Force scouted out the caverns where the last few demons had escaped to. They had scouted seven others so far that day and this was to be the last. Every single cave had led far into the ground. As a precautionary measure, using Drizzt's advice, the investigation teams had set charges and collapsed the tunnels to prevent another occurrence of the same from happening anytime soon. The soldiers of the SSDF were highly trained and most of them were quite experienced. Unfortunately, they were not trained to deal with supernatural threats.

When they came across a group of injured people cowering in a corner of the eighth cavern, their first instinct was to help.

"Team 13 to base," the team leader said.

"Go ahead, Team 13."

"We have just found five human women and a man, probably an elf," the team leader reported. "They are injured and unarmed. Two of the women and the man are unconscious."

"See to their wounds," the base said. "We're sending a medivac to your location."

"Understood, base. Team 13 out," the team leader said. "Okay, get them bandaged up. We've got a team coming in to bring them to the hospital." He leaned down and touched one of the women on the shoulder and spoke in a calm voice. "We are going to help you." Carefully, he and the other members of his team bandaged the wounds as the other teams took care of their primary mission. Soon the helicopter arrived and took the wounded people back without anyone knowing the truth. Kannyr Vhok grinned silently as he was airlifted into Sunnydale with Aiisza and four succubae. It was time for him to play the long game.


	22. Chapter 22

"Well, our preliminary investigation of the cavern city suggests it is in excellent condition," Dr. Marion Jones said. "All wood has long since rotted away. We found evidence of humid periods in the past. The strange part is the complete lack of common items: pots, tools, remains. It appears to have been made and then immediately abandoned."

"How old do you think it is?" asked a reporter. It had been a month since the Scooby Gang had discovered the city and three weeks since it was declared cleansed of vampire activity. In the remaining time, almost all the forces of the Sunnydale University Archaeology department had been devoted to investigating the find. The team had just published the initial results in the University Forum, a local collection of works by grad students and professionals connected to the university.

"I will be very honest: that is very difficult to tell," Dr. Jones said simply. "With the absence of any organic material we have nothing to carbon date. Also, we have seen quite clearly that what we consider normal for carbon-14 dating is not the same as on Earth. There will be some testing to determine the proper amounts in the upcoming months. The other problem with dating is that we have no other corroborating evidence to date the site. Normally we will compare a research dig with other sources, primarily with written accounts or with similarly dated areas. We have no frame of reference for this world."

"Do you think it's safe for people to move in?"

"Is this a possibly solution to the housing crisis?"

"I do not know. I am not an engineer or an architect, so I do not know if it is safe to live there," Dr. Jones said simply. "In the coming months, after more research, our teams should be able to tell you more."

She ignored the great number of other questions as she stepped away from the podium. Mayor Wilkins stepped up to replace her. Next to him stood Kellindil and Peris dressed in their most formal clothing. The clear dislike between the two did not pass unnoticed by the press. Next to them were two dwarves, one dressed in full plate armor and the other, Fret, was dressed in fine robes.

"Thank you, Dr. Jones," the mayor said. He turned back to the press. "This is a momentous occasion for Sunnydale. I would like to introduce the new ambassadors to Sunnydale. This is Ambassador Kellindil of the Moonwood, which as I understand it is to the northwest of us. Many of you may remember him and Ambassador Fret from their visit earlier in the year. Next to Kellindil is Ambassador Peris of Zhentil Keep. Ambassador Peris was arriving as a diplomatic contingent last month when his party was attacked during last month's demon attack that cost us so many lives. Mr. Peris, it is a pleasure to see you alive and well. Beyond him is Ambassador Delwid Axegrinder of Citadel Adbar, our partners in the SunnyRail program. And lastly, but not least is Ambassador Fret, representing Silverymoon and Lady Alustriel."

"How has Zhentil Keep responded to our incarceration of their Ambassador and entourage?"

"They understood the suspicious arrival of their ambassador," the mayor said with his trademarked grin. "After some discussion we have patched relations between us."

"What about rumors of the economic/socio-political arm of Zhentil Keep, the Zhentarim? What about these rumors of their goals of aggrandizement?"

"At this time they are just that, rumors. When more information is gathered we will deal with each Ambassador and political neighbor accordingly for how they treat Sunnydale. At this point, these are our economic and political neighbors who have helped us through some hard times," Wilkins continued. "We thought we would never be able to complete the work on time until the Dwarven work crews arrived. At our new estimates, the first leg of the SunnyRail Accords will be complete by this time next year."

"Mr. Mayor, how are we going to pay for our supplies for this coming year, and how are they being shipped?" another reported asked. There were only ten reporters these days, as City Hall had reminded them to consolidate. Now there were four newspapers (all published online, as there was a distinct lack of paper mills in Sunnydale), and two television stations with three others in the works in Chinese, Japanese and Norwegian. Most of them ran syndicated shows and news.

"Currently we are receiving goods on credit," the mayor raised his hands to forestall questions until he had finished. "We have dealt with a significant portion of the debt by trading the metal from the armor worn by the demon forces. Apparently, it is a precious metal in these parts, a rare, but naturally occurring, alloy that is prized by our dwarven neighbors. For the rest of the debt we are attempting to negotiate possibilities. I will be sure to speak with everyone when we have more information on the final deals.

"How does the orc community fit into all of this?"

"I will turn this question over to General Hennessey of the SSDF," the mayor said, stepping back so the General could take the podium.

"Currently, the orc community is starving. We have thwarted seven attempts on caravans traveling through Turnstone Pass to Sunnydale," Hennessey said simply. "So far only two people have been harmed in the raids and there have been no fatalities. We have them contained, and have even left aid packages for them to eat. Currently they remain hostile, so diplomacy has been difficult. This is an ongoing situation."

"Why don't you simply drive them out of the valley?"

"They are a small group trying to survive," the general told the reporter. "If we drove them out, it could precipitate a greater conflict that Sunnydale is not prepared to fight. Similarly if Sunnydale was to kill them, they would be murdering civilians. I will not have this country make its start by wholesale murder. That perches us at the top of a slippery slope that would be all too easy to tumble down. Mr. Mayor?"

"Thank you, General," the Mayor said with a smile. "Are there any other questions?"

"When will the work restrictions be loosened?"

"Our goal is to have enough construction completed by this autumnal equinox," the mayor said as if he had anticipated the question, which he had. The debate of when to cut down on the work loads was ongoing and heated in the mayor's chambers. "This will also coincide with the return to school. This is our plan to synchronize our calendar with the local year. This will make for an unusually large summer, but business should return to normal at the expected date. Next? Yes, Mr. Wuther?"

"How is the SSDF planning on coordinating their forces with the newly expanded Watcher's Council?"

"Ah, yes," though he didn't show it, Richard Wilkins was not pleased by this question, it was something he had wanted to avoid. "As the Watcher's Council and the agency formerly known as the Initiative are combined, we will start to see some changes. Our goal is to have the Watcher's Council focus on situations as a supernatural police force. They will not be replacing the police, but will be specially trained for dealing with crimes involving the supernatural and will coordinate through liaisons with both the SSDF and the police department. These include attacks with dark magic, summoning demons, rogue demon attacks and various other problems. More accurately, the Watcher's Council will be doing the same job they had been, but will now be paid and answerable to review for their actions. And please, do not call them the X-Files."

There was a bit of chuckling about that. Ever since the press release about the Watcher's Council three weeks prior, the press had dubbed them the Sunnydale X-Files. The real focus was an excuse to plaster pictures of pretty young women and men on the TV.

"Their secondary goal will be as an interim Office of Foreign Affairs until we can develop the same process," Wilkins said. "Currently we are limited by the translation technology. When this has been overcome, the Watcher's Council will take a back seat on international affairs and focus on domestic security."

"I can honestly say we are still in mourning for the dead, but how can the poor response from the military give us any hope of survival?"

"…Last month we were caught in a terrible situation," the mayor began quietly. He was not his usual jovial self. "Sunnydale comes from a peaceful part of Earth. We had no need of massive arms or walls to protect us. In the end, we were naive and it cost us some very dear people. But we survived. We will learn from this and make sure that it never happens again. The only way we can go on is to learn from our mistakes. If we do not, we will never be able to survive."

"Thank you, no further questions, please," the Mayor said, flashing a somber smile as he left. The ambassadors continued after him to where they would be housed in Angel's Mansion, which was still the primary diplomatic building.

* * *

Two Weeks Prior

The Scooby Gang and the Initiative Soldiers had returned to the Initiative headquarters to find three of the cells with occupants. Two of these cells contained the people who had arrived unconscious on University grounds. This had been a bit of a sticky situation. After some deliberation, Giles decided to meet with the leader of the party, a Mr. Peris, while other agents interrogated several other members. They had blindfolded him and lead him around several staircases and in through doors (some of which had no walls, as new construction was not yet completed) and then sat him down in a room with only one window.

"Mr. Peris?" Giles wore the translation amulet so he could understand everything, but Peris could only understand him. "Please tell me why you have come to our city."

"When Lord Manshoon heard of your arrival, I was dispatched with a small team to observe you from a distance," Peris stated honestly. "I was not to enter the city until I was invited in."

"Interesting, and why was it that you entered before you were invited? Indeed, before we even knew of your existence," Giles asked, adding just a touch of the Ripper to his voice.

"My party was being slaughtered by an army of demons," the man said honestly. "I commanded my wizard to teleport us away. Something went wrong with the spell and we were transported to your city."

"Now I have questions about your definition of small," Giles said, glancing at the photographs in his hand. Each was a shot of the field where the demons had fought the Zhentarim. "We have it one good authority that there are at least four hundred bodies in this field. This is not what I would consider a 'small party.' Care to explain?"

"Yes, sir," Peris said. Giles was not sure if it was merely cultural differences or if the man was simply good at obscuring truth and lies, but the Watcher did not seem to be able to get a handle on the man. "When we discovered the army of demons, we sent back word. Lord Manshoon ordered a legion of our soldiers and a contingent of Black Cloaks to assist in removing the demons. We had attempted to use a Portal to the surface, but the demons were waiting. As a result we were slaughtered and only a small few of us remained."

"Thank you, we will take this under consideration," Giles said. He then turned and opened the door, nodding to the Agents to take him away. Three other agents had been watching outside the doors fell in step with him as they walked back to the conference room. Closing the door behind him, Giles sat at the head of the table. "What are your opinions?"

"All their stories collaborate," said the first agent. He was baby faced, and Giles couldn't remember his name, but he looked very familiar. O'Dell, or O'Neil or something. It would come to him in time. "From the two I spoke with they were a bit ill at ease with the photographs. The images did not disturb them, so much as that we knew about the incident."

"That was my impression as well," Carmichael reported. "They were also unsettled to have a woman interrogate them."

"Do you believe their story about Zhentil Keep? Our other ambassadors are not pleased with that organization's past actions," Giles said.

"I believe that Zhentil Keep is very interested in what we can provide them, not so much in what they can provide us," was the third Agent's response. He was a psychologist on staff originally intended to make patterns for HST activity. Although he was specifically chosen by Maggie Walsh, he was very good at his job and had barely blinked at the change in power. "Although several of the…Zhentarim?-I believe that is what they refer to themselves as. Although several of the Zhentarim are very hesitant to reveal anything about their own organizations other than the economic expansion, we know from other sources, they have military conquests in their region of the world. Their primary sphere of power is on the other side of the great desert to our East. They could very well see this as a stepping stone towards controlling this region as well."

"Limiting foreign powers to a single Ambassador and two aids is going to be the primary policy," Giles said. "The Zhentarim seem to be an organization which may push at the reins a bit. We shall have to keep a close eye on them. Now if you'll excuse me I have to make my report to the Mayor."

* * *

Two weeks later, the cleanup was well underway. Buildings in relatively good condition were repaired. Less fortunate buildings were cannibalized for building supplies. Anything that could be used was used. Other parts, like old bent nails were melted down into new nails, or similarly recycled. There were only a few parts that were unable to be salvaged. The most primary of these was vinyl siding. It was completely useless once broken and there were no replacements. Buildings were insulated and reinforced for winter weather. Everyone was working. Only a select few were not helping and those few were quickly caught and pressed into action.

For the Scooby Gang this meant that they seemed to have two jobs. The first was their original goal of demon and supernatural control. The second was whatever job in the city needed helpers. Buffy, Drizzt and Xander were helping construction crews build new homes in the hills around Sunnydale. It had been decided to keep the farm land around the city the way it was and build in the less arable lands outside. Giles was busy reorganizing and training the new Watcher's Council. Willow splitting her time between magical studies and computer database construction. One of the biggest goals was to make a database of every book in Sunnydale, so that additional copies could be made. One of Willow's jobs was to coordinate between the Watcher's Council and the Database to ensure that no "special" books were copied. Giles trusted that Willow would know the difference after her experience with Moloch. Any additional questions were to be directed to him.

Giles was trying to get some members of the magical community to join the Council, but that was easier said than done. It seemed the casters did not appreciate much of the involvement the government had brought into their lives. The sudden reveal of their groups had put an unwanted light on their activities. Since Alustriel was no longer meeting directly in Sunnydale, the fundamentalist crazies had decided to start putting pressure on the local spell-casters.

Amy Madison was one of the first people to be attacked. She had just returned home when a brick flew through her window. It was quickly followed by another. Somehow the Housecraft fanatics had discovered her other interests and had decided to start acting out what the bible said. And that apparently included stoning witches. Before the second brick had gone through the window, Mr. Madison had been on the phone to the police. Unfortunately, the crowd had caught on and dispersed before they could be caught. No arrests were made. It was labeled "under investigation" like most of the other crimes the police were not bothered to finish.

* * *

Food was the number one import for Sunnydale. Mages would teleport to a location well outside the city, drop off their loads and then would teleport out after receiving the receipt. People were having a hard time adjusting to the new diet. Sweets were practically unknown and anyone with any left hoarded them like dragons with treasure. Sunnydale had one export that was changing the North: Chocolate.

There was only one harvest so far and half of that had been used as gift packages to the various heads of state in the surrounding areas. The remaining half was planted in a specially built greenhouse that was just getting finished. The genetic pool was dangerously small, but it was all they had to work with. The heads of state were so impressed with the taste, they had demanded more. Sunnydale had used this demand to ensure more credit and labor. As such, almost the entire next year's stock was spoken for already. All in all, it seemed to be working out well. More work was getting done which meant more people had homes, which in turn meant there was less complaining.

Housing was not done in the traditional American style of one family to a building. Instead, large buildings were built along several roads on either side of the valley. These roads curved up the ridges that sandwiched Sunnydale and then followed them up around the newly formed lake. Any place with good soil was conserved for farming land. The remaining land was divided up into several sections, two of which were housing and mining. Housing was the priority, but mining would be one of the few ways that Sunnydale would be able to pay its debts in the long run. There were a few other categories, but they were not anything people were worrying about at the moment and the land was reserved and left empty.

Agriculture had begun in the flatlands, but it was not intended to produce a large crop to feed Sunnydale. This year was dedicated towards building a larger seed bank. Plants that were only few in number were cloned and replanted. It was surprising how much could be accomplished in such a short period of time. Unfortunately, the common person did not see much of this as progress, but as a hoarding of resources. The agro-business way is to use and use and use, ignoring all common sense, and most of Sunnydale was made up of people who had grown used to agro-business and the younger generations had known no other way. In a country where most people never knew where their food came from, they had no experience as to how difficult it is to actually raise food from seed to harvest. The reality of no fresh tomatoes year round was sinking in slowly.

The one reality people did embrace was geothermal heat. After some additional exploration, geologists had found many places surrounding Sunnydale where vents bubbled up boiling water. Engineers were quick to harness this in their new designs. Hopefully, by the time winter came along, most new buildings would be naturally heated by the power of the earth. Geothermal power was also being used for the new greenhouses being planned in the renovations of the Sunnydale Zoo.

The Zoo was going to become a large biosphere for tropical species, with an emphasis on the plant and insect life rather than the animals. Anything that could survive in the colder weather would now be forced to live outside. After long deliberation, it had been decided to attempt to keep the zoo animals alive. Everyone knew this would not be possible for some species and from a purely utilitarian point of view, foolish, but the public would not permit most of the animals to be killed. Many saw the Sunnydale zoo as a remnant of the world they had lost. This was another case of nostalgia being more powerful than common sense.

Power generation stations were the next to be built after housing and geothermal power was the first on the list of ideas. The Sunnydale Hydrodam project had been stalled because they did not have the equipment and labor free to move the damn to its new location. In the absence of all petroleum deposits and the lack of that particular mining technology, geothermal power had been chosen as the primary power source. In order to make the parts needed, personal vehicles were commandeered and broken down for parts. It was not a perfect solution. It was rather like connecting two different technologies that worked, and hoping they worked together. The result was something that generated power, but not nearly enough for their needs and far from efficiently. It might be enough to get them though the winter. Hopefully. Maybe. In a perfect world.

The first cars to be taken were in sales lots. With a lack of petrol, there was no point in keeping them so the lot owners were happy to get rid of them. In it's place was a group of people who were trying to find something to replace the internal combustion engine as the most common mode of transportation. One of these people was Warren Mears.

It was clear to the engineering department how lucky they were to have such an incredible mind like Warren's. This is a boy who made a working, humanoid robot in high school, who was now working to solve many of the problems they were having. At least part of his thought process was intuitive, because he thought around problems, rather than tackling them head on in the usual manner. As such, he was instrumental in devising the next personal automobile: the air pressure car. At first, this seemed like an unattainable goal, but with some tweaking here and there, they had developed a working model of a car that worked on air pressure alone. The car produced no pollution and cost nothing to fill up. The engineers were confidant they could develop similar engines for other craft such as boats and possible aircraft. They were attempting to make functional and economic geothermal converters to charge the air compressors, but as of yet it was not the perfect solution to the problem. Until the electricity situation could be rectified by the moving of the Sunnydale hydroelectric damn or the instatement of working geothermal power plants, the actual range of the cars was severely limited.

But Warren was still Warren. Even with everything he had accomplished, everything he had been acknowledged for, he was still trying to push the envelope. His next project, kept a secret even from his closest friends, was something that fit Warren Mears to the core. He had swiped one of the blasters from the Initiative and had been reverse engineering it. He figured that it could be tweaked left and right, shrunk and expanded, and twisted into whatever he needed. So, considering he was one of the biggest geeks in Sunnydale it came as no surprise that the first thing he recreated was Han Solo's blaster from Star Wars. After testing it on his mother's cat, he discovered he had finally created a non-lethal laser pistol that actually worked. (Although this was a momentous occasion, it did not please the cat much.) After that, it was just a matter of rearranging things for larger sizes.

* * *

"So, I'm off in a couple of weekends, Xander's off in a couple of weekends, Drizzt is off in a couple of weekends," Buffy said, sitting with Willow on their work break. "You should take off with us."

"I don't know. I have a huge pile of work," Willow said. "But what were you thinking about doing?"

"How about sneaking past the guards and going on a trip into the forest south of here," Buffy said with a conspiratorial grin. "There's something there. I can feel it."

"Is this like Slayer sense going off? Cuz I don't really want to get eaten if we go in there," Willow said worriedly.

"Good Sensey, not Bad Sensey," Buffy said with a grin. "Slayer senses give it the OK."

"So it could be an adventure? Like Romancing the Stone?" Willow was suddenly much more interested.

"Yeah, I guess so," Buffy said with a shrug. "I'm just feeling kinda trapped here. It's like there's an itch I can't scratch no matter how hard I try."

"Oh, like when it's behind your shoulder blades? I hate that," Willow said with complete sympathy.

"Yeah, except it's not a real itch, it's a feeling," said a scowling Buffy. "But at the same time it's like I forgot something, but I can't remember what I forgot, only that I forgot it."

"Thanks for trying to keep me occupied," Willow said with a smile. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"You, miss Angel, so you're keeping yourself occupied by making sure that I'm occupied so I don't think of Oz, but this is really all because you don't want to think of Angel and you think we can be miserable together," Willow said. Buffy cocked her head and looked at the red head confused.

"How do you say these things without taking a breath?" Willow blushed and looked away. Buffy smiled, that fake smile one wears when they don't want to face the truth. Deep down, she was just as depressed as Willow. "We're doing okay, we're some happening babes, we should do something."

"I don't know…I just," Willow took a sip of her herbal tea, "I just don't know what to do. I've cried, I've kept the letters, and I'm putting one foot in front of the other. I just don't know where to go from there."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Buffy agreed with a huff. Depressed, she leaned over and rested her chin on the table. "You know how last year we said we would never have a good relationship?" Willow nodded. "I think we were right."

"Yeah," Willow said, resting her chin just like Buffy. "Boys suck."

"Yeah…"

They leaned over like that for a while until a pretty blond girl walked up to them. "Hi-hi Willow." Willow brightened almost instantly. The blond girl, on the other hand, visibly shrank when she realized Willow was not alone.

"Hi Tara," the redhead said with a smile. She seemed to not notice the reaction the girl had towards Buffy. "Buffy, this is Tara." Buffy rolled her head to the side to see the new girl. Picking her head up, she smiled. "Tara, meet Buffy."

"Hi Tara, I'm Buffy," she said, holding out her hand. The shy girl's face went red as she tentatively shook Buffy's hand.

"N-nice t-tuh-to meet you," Tara said. Buffy wasn't sure if she was nervous or just had a stutter. "W-Willow talks about you a l-lot."

"Well, does she?" Buffy pulled out a chair. "Join us." The girl looked nervously at the chair and then slowly looked up at Willow. Willow just grinned and nodded. "So how do you guys know each other?"

"We met after the magic meeting just after the shift," Willow said. "Her mom's a great witch. Me and Amy have been meeting with her a lot since then."

"Nice, so Tara, are you in on the whole magic thingy?" Buffy asked as she took a sip of her iced tea. It wasn't real tea because that had been reserved for special occasions. This was a collection of dried herbs from inside Sunnydale and out that made for a special flavor.

"Yea-yes. M-my mother wants me to fol-follow in her fo-foot steps," responded Tara. She seemed to clutch the edge of her shirt very tightly.

"That's great," Buffy said, flashing a smile. "I think it's cool that so many people are doing with the witchyness these days. Me, I'm still a hands on girl."

"I-I've seen you on TV," Tara said hesitantly. Buffy grumbled under her breath.

"Yeah, I wish they'd stop stalking me," the blond said with a grouchy look. "I think they're just waiting for me to turn eighteen when they can publish all the dirty pics they've been taking. And considering how my last birthday ended up, I'm not really looking forward to the next one."

"That's kind of a touchy subject with Buffy these days," Willow said.

"Age?" Tara was just a bit confused. Buffy shook her head.

"Nah, just birthdays."


	23. Chapter 23

"I am glad you decided to join us Mr. Peris," Manshoon said from one of the three mirrors hung in the temporary Zhentarim Embassy. The other two held the images of the two other prominent Zhentarim leaders: Fzoul Chembryl, High Cleric of Bane and Bane's Chosen, and Xantriph, a great and powerful Beholder.

"Please forgive me, My Lords, I was summoned to an emergency meeting of all the ambassadors," Peris said with a deep bow, showing much more reverence than he would for Manshoon alone. He had to be careful not to disturb or annoy the Banite cleric, especially since Peris was well known to have differing religious beliefs. Xantriph was not as much as a problem as the Beholder rarely left his lair.

"Interesting, what was this meeting about?" Manshoon was always held the greatest interest in where power could be gained.

"Primarily it was concerning the orcish horde that has taken residence below the city," Peris reported dutifully. "Although they have officially done nothing to warrant an attack, they wanted advice on how to deal with them."

"And how did you respond?" This came from Fzoul, the least threatening, but possibly most dangerous of the three.

"I spoke the truth," Peris said simply. "If the horde is starving, they will soon attack, regardless of their numbers. Then, with the agreement of the Ambassador from the Moonwood, suggested extermination."

"How did they respond?" the beholder asked in a voice that could never have come from a human being.

"The Sunnydalers found it barbaric, quite frankly," Peris said, keeping his flinch unnoticed by the three. Fzoul kept staring at him. "In their opinion it would be foolish to antagonize them when they have done nothing wrong. They rejected the idea of extermination flatly."

"Interesting how these things work out," Manshoon mused as he absently stroked his mask. "How did the meeting conclude?"

"It was decided to 'provide aid' to the orcs, by requisitioning additional food and tools for the horde," Peris said, once again keeping the flinch internal as Fzoul's gaze pierced him. Xantriph laughed out loud in his horrid voice.

"How amusing! These fools feed the mouth that bites them," the many eyed creature remarked. "They should be easily crushed."

"No, offense intended Lord Xantriph, but I feel that would not be the best course of action," Peris said, putting his head on the proverbial chopping block. "They have abilities far beyond us. They defended their city from an army of Demons without any of the traditional defenses. If you attack, they will crush the Zhentarim army."

"You doubt the power of Bane," Fzoul Chembryl said quietly and dangerously. Peris visibly took a step back.

"No! Of course not, Lord Fzoul!" Peris said, accidentally letting some fear into his eyes.

"Then why do you speak of them so," demanded the Chosen of Bane.

"Their military is highly trained and has weapons that can pierce armor at a far distance," Peris said. "Their knowledge of alchemy far exceeds that of Lantan or the clerics of Gond. I have been told rumors of there even being weapons that destroy cities. An army would be nothing to them."

"Then why do they not use these weapons and take what they need," Manshoon put in. He was careful to derail Fzoul's interrogation before the cleric condemned the poor ambassador.

"I believe they see it as a defensive measure," Peris said carefully. "Something they will only use when attacked. The threat of their power is part of what protects them."

"How do you know of this weapon," the Beholder asked.

"I was speaking with some of the other ambassadors who had read of such things," Peris said. "They have extensive documentation and illustrations."

"Returning to other matters," Manshoon prompted pointedly, "we should uncover what the Zhentarim can do for the people of Sunnydale."

"Their first priority is food, My Lord Manshoon," Peris said. "After that comes glass, other building supplies, clothing, ore, stock plants and seed, and livestock. They have some very arable land because most of it has not been farmed in centuries since Hellgate Keep fell to the demons. They seek skilled craftsmen to set up shop making commonly needed goods. There has been some talk about temporary worker arriving to help assist in the expansion of the city."

"So we shall send 'aid' in both goods and services," Manshoon said with a hidden smile. One could hear the amusement in his voice. "Have your Black Cloak transport the list of supplies and we shall start shipping them in. They will come up the Delimbyr from Llorkh and will continue on north. Have you not been able to open a Portal yet?"

"No, their mages seem most proficient in blocking any attempts," Peris said simply. He wasn't about to tell them that it was some other, greater power blocking them. This meeting was stressful enough. "After the demon army seemed to appear in the middle of the city, there is a strong sense of paranoia. Although they do not build walls, they are very strongly opposed to any possibility of someone entering by magical means."

"Have you had a chance to meet with any of these mages?"

"No, My Lord, I have not," Peris said simply.

"Very well, continue. We shall meet in one week's time to discuss this further," Manshoon said before Fzoul could argue. With a nod, he broke the connection, letting all three mirrors return to their previous state. Hearing clapping from outside the door, Peris stiffened. He turned to see Kellindil standing there, having heard the whole conversation.

"Nicely played," the elf Ambassador said with a smile.

"It was rather dangerous here and there actually," Peris responded. "You listened in, just like I asked. Good."

"So," the elf said as he ripped apart a loaf of bread, handing a chunk to the Zhent. "Do they suspect the truth?"

Peris paused to eat, thinking on his answer. "I believe Lord Manshoon knows. The other two do not. Fzoul is too blinded by Bane and Xantriph does not care unless he gains personal power. I would say only Lord Manshoon knows I am a Harper."

"Then why hasn't he killed you yet?" asked Kellindil.

"One thing you learn about Lord Manshoon when working with him is that he always has a plan," Peris said. "In his mind, I am but a pawn on a very expansive chessboard. Most people think there are only two players at chess. Manshoon makes sure there is only one. I could be used as an example some time in the future, but until I am no longer useful to Lord Manshoon personally, I will not be harmed."

"This is certainly going to make the next few years interesting," Kellindil said with a grin.

"You do know, that is commonly referred to as a curse where I grew up, right?"

"What is?"

"'May you live in interesting times.' It's almost the worst thing that can happen to a person."

"That certainly does seem to describe what I expect of the next few years." Kellindil offered the man a second piece of bread before they fell into talking about Faerûnian politics.

* * *

Xander was on break. In fact, he was in the supply closet. To be more to the point he was in the supply closet with Cordelia. Making out. A lot. It had been much more subtle than just doing it in public, and had the added thrill of pretending like they were getting away with something. Truth be told, they were only able to do this on the two hour lunch break every day. The work schedule make it almost impossible to meet up when they could be alone.

Added to the problem was that Cordelia's parents actually liked Xander. It had been an accidental meeting one night. Cordy had just finished her work and was on her way to the Bronze (which was still the after work hangout in town) to meet Xander. Xander was there waiting, as his job was much closer than hers. He had struck up a conversation with an older couple about work and goals. Cordy walked in to discover her boyfriend talking to her parents. It was possibly the single most terrifying moment of her life, aside from that one time with the invisible girl.

The Chase family was impressed. When Xander had expressed ambivalence about the possibility of college, Cordy's father had actually encouraged the teen to take some time off to think about what he wanted to do. Cordy could not believe her ears. This was her push-push-push father? She had obviously fallen into psycho-world, because that was not the father she had grown up with. Much to Cordy's chagrin, Xander had spotted her and called her over, introducing her as his girlfriend. And the liked him? How was this possible?

And so now they were making out in the supply closet of an abandoned factory that was being converted into a working factory. This was the fourth time this week they had ended up in the supply closet, but this time involved more clothes than the previous two. The hot weather of the past month had lead to less clothes than normal. That lead to certain things which were not allowed without reliable access to contraceptives. And that lead to situations neither were really ready to deal with. That said, they were careful which clothes went by the wayside in their romantic jaunts.

"We've-ah-only-oo-oh! got five-eh-ah, minutes left," Cordelia said. "I'm going to be-ah-yes! No! Late, I'm going to be late!"

Xander reluctantly pulled back. "See you tonight? At the Scooby meeting?"

"I don't really feel like I'm welcome to them," Cordy said.

"Hey, when we started dating, the We-Hate-Cordelia Club was officially closed," the boy said with a grin as he passed her shirt over to her.

"Thanks," Cordy said, taking the top back. "I know we're on good terms these days, but it seems like, I don't know. Everything is changing. It might have been different if we'd been back in California instead of the middle ages."

"Yeah, it's true. We don't really know what's gonna happen," Xander said. "You're still welcome to come."

"I'll think about it," Cordy said with a grin. She gave him one last kiss before slipping out the door.

* * *

"Ma, it's been a month, I can get up a little," Larry said, swinging his legs off the bed. Ever since he had been hit by the tanarukk attack a month before, Larry had been in bed rest. The wound had been serious, but emergency surgery had saved him minus one kidney. He was tired of being in bed and wanted to move around. He was supposed to move around some, truth be told. His mother was being over protective; it was partly because it was her nature, partly because he was her son, and partly because she felt it was her fault he got hurt.

"You need to heal up," was her command. "You've been excused for your injury and everyone's working hard for your sake and all those with you."

"I know I'm on the injured list. That doesn't mean I can't move around the house," Larry said as he stretched towards the crutches just outside of his reach. His mother huffed and passed them to him. He weakly pushed himself up and perched himself on the crutches before working himself forward. He had never felt this weak, of course he had never experienced major surgery and axe wounds before either. "Ma, help me over to the table."

"Oh, don't push yourself," his mother said. Deep inside, Larry was loving it.

* * *

"Amelia, I has been a pleasure meeting you," Gara the Stone Giant said, leaning over her doctor and friend. They were standing outside the perimeter of the town. After being given a clean bill of health, it had been a couple of weeks before people had decided what to do with the three stone giants. One thing was sure, they could not afford the food bill for very much longer. The wounds had healed to bright pink scars, but with a cane the stone giant could walk slowly.

"I am glad to call you a friend Gara," Amelia Chung said with a grin. "I want you to come back in a few weeks for a checkup."

"I plan to," Gara said. Gara whistled to her children who waddled after her like the giant toddlers they were. "I also plan to ask my elders to open trade. Our rothe herds for some of your stocks could be the start of a wonderful friendship."

"See, I knew you would like Casablanca," the doctor said, slapping her twelve foot tall friend on the hip (it was about as high as she could reach). With a wave, the giant started off towards her hidden village in the hills.

* * *

The Tiefling had been surviving by using his ensorcelled vampires fetch his food. In the past month he had begun mastering the local language which he learned was known as English. The first vampire he had captured, known commonly as "Ed" was actually a fairly intelligent individual. Apparently, Ed had served a master vampire called the Master. The Tiefling had long since decided the Sunnydalers had a problem with redundancy. Ed had been trained well by his sire, Luke, but had learned more from Luke's death at the hands of the Slayer. Ed learned quickly how to avoid detection by picking and choosing his victims. He NEVER made neophytes.

Luckily for the Tiefling, Ed had been an ESL teacher in life and had taught at the local high school the year before the Slayer arrived in Sunnydale. He knew exactly how to teach his new master the English language. At night Ed would go out in the world and get blood, food and teaching supplies. Then, during the day, Ed would return and teach the Tiefling everything he knew about English. Unfortunately, this all came to nothing.

"Interesting," came a voice from behind the tiefling. The Zhentarim agent spun around to see Kaanyr Vhok standing in the entrance of the haven, flanked by his mistress and three succubi. "I had wondered if any of your people escaped. It is unfortunate that so few of my forces survived."

"What are you doing here?" was the tiefling's quick demand. He glanced over the five and quickly realized all three succubi were armed with Sunnydaler weapons. "I was not aware that demons were allowed to roam free in this town."

"You would be surprised," grinned Aiisza. "Transformational magic is most deceptive."

"Well, forgive me for not being a Transmuter," the tiefling sniped back as he reached for his wand tucked into the back of his belt. "I'm really much better at enchantments."

"Now, now, you are worth much more to us alive than dead," the cambion said, glancing pointedly at the tiefling's arm. "You pull out that wand and we have a stand off. I might not know what kind of spells are enchanted in that stick, but you might not be able to Charm us all at once, and missing even one of these lovely ladies would put you in a very difficult situation."

"Then what do you propose," was the Zhent's questioning reply.

"An alliance of sorts," Aiisza said simply. "You have resources and a support base already. We, on the other hand, have powers and abilities that we can, and will, contribute."

"You want to align Hellgate Keep with the Zhentarim?"

"No, that is not possible," the cambion said simply. "With the destruction of the army, my mother will not be very happy to see me any time soon, if ever. The other survivors will have reported my failure to complete my mission, as foolish a tactic as I was required to use. I am not welcome in Hellgate Keep any longer. My soldiers are either destroyed or captured. I am stuck in a city where there is no direct road to power and only a few straggling game paths to survival."

"So, you plan on taking power here by aligning yourself with me, because I am in a position to assist with your continued survival," the tiefling said simply.

"Indeed, we are in similar situations," Aiisza argued. "You are as cut off from your power base as we."

"And this way you have no need of dealing with the undead vermin which haunt these tunnels," Kaanyr Vhok growled with obvious disgust.

"All but one, he is teaching me in the ways of their people," the Tiefling said. "It will be better to insinuate ourselves when we learn the language and culture."

"I agree on that count," the cambion said with a grin. "So, do we have a deal?"

"I believe we do," grinned the tiefling, giving the half-fiends a slight bow of respect.

* * *

"It has been three weeks, Vierna," grumbled her brother Dinin. "We are lost. Lost while seeking a demon that will destroy us all."

"Brother, do not grumble," snarled the priestess of Lloth. She hated it when her brother spoke something so close to the truth. They had been tracking their youngest brother's path to the surface, but it was not an easy task to bypass ten years of savagery to find the signs of later stability in Drizzt's path. "We shall find it soon."

"Tell me priestess," asked the jovial eye-patched Drow mercenary, Jarlaxle, "would it not be better to follow the path of the Zin-Carla?"

"Perhaps it would," admitted Vierna. The two males shared a surprised look at this statement. It was not like a priestess to simply take suggestions so easily. "Brother, find us a place to rest, I shall complete the rite to track its path."

Dinin and Jarlaxle wandered away a moment later in the pretense of finding a place to rest. In truth, the priestess' behavior was alarming. She seemed to shift from manic to depressed without warning. That she also flaunted Menzoberranzan tradition by referring to Dinin as "brother" suggested she was either insanely arrogant or delusional. Such talk would have had her eliminated quickly to prevent the creation of a stage to challenge the First House.

"She calls me 'brother,'" Dinin said with obvious confusion. "This has never happened before."

"Yes, I had noticed that," the mercenary leader mused. "It seems the announcement of the apparition has given your sister a streak of arrogance beyond the usual for a priestess."

"I am not sure that is it," Dinin said simply.

"Perhaps it is her father's blood," grinned Jarlaxle. He grinned at the Do'Urden's confusion. "She shares the same father as young Drizzt. It is not so unbelievable that she might lean in the same direction as her wayward brother."

"Some might say I am just as wayward, Jarlaxle," Dinin commented with a matching grin. "I am just as much a threat to House Baenre as she or Drizzt. I even caught her referring to him as 'brother' as well. Those are dangerous words, considering the Baenre spies among us."

"I wondered when you would notice them," the mercenary leader said with a wry smile before taking a swig from his water skin. "Her actions make me wonder if she intends to restart House Do'Urden."

"Her current arrogance would support that theory," Dinin admitted with a shrug. "This may very well be the reason she is seeking Drizzt out, to rebuild our Family from the ruins. Truth be told, I have no desire to face that demon again. Even if he is my brother. He slew our sister with terrifying ease, and yet, he despaired for doing so. Even today, the thought of facing him fills me with such terror." When Jarlaxle raised a curious eyebrow, Dinin shook his head slightly. "This fear is not weakness, like so many would suggest, but an instinct for survival."

"So he is just as formidable as his father," Jarlaxle commented. The other dark elf shook his head almost violently.

"Far greater than," Dinin said with startling conviction. "He was able to defeat a form of Zaknafein with all the skills and strength of the Weapons Master, but none of the conscious, longings or emotions. One who could slay Zaknafein in Zin-Carla is not someone to be underestimated."

"I shall take that under advisement," Jarlaxle said. Dinin looked at the mercenary leader, obviously about to reply before pausing a moment.

"…wait. Wasn't your patch over your other eye?"


	24. Chapter 24

"Mother, I do not really care," said the redheaded woman. Dressed in her usual Chinese outfit, Ranma (in female form) stood looking out the window of their new home. Built on a steep cliff, the house looked out over the valley and the orc village, giving a spectacular view each evening.

"People are doing everything they can," Nodoka Saotome argued. "You could help them do so much more. You should teach. Pass on the Art. You are needed."

"Mother, it has been ten years since we reunited," Ranma said, sitting down at the table. "In that time I have grown up. The Art is not a toy, it is a weapon, unsheathed and poised. Need I remind you what happened to Ryoga?"

"That happened eight years ago," the older woman said to her child as she poured tea. "Hibiki-san turned into a fine young man after that."

"I almost killed him!" Ranma poured the scalding water over her head, shifting back into male form. "I was unhinged, a danger to myself and everyone around me, and I am not going to allow that to happen to someone else."

"Then you can teach them," she argued. "Ensure they do not make the same mistakes you made as a child."

"It is not that simple." Ranma and his mother stared at each other for a long moment. "I was a force of destruction. I wandered around, ignoring all my responsibilities and caused trouble for everyone around me. I hurt people I cared about, people I still care about. Now, here, I can create, canceling out the destruction I wreaked as a teen."

"We are in a new world, Ranma, far from the streets of Nerima," she continued. "You really think being stubborn is going to change that?"

"I am not just being stubborn, I am being realistic," her child said, slumping to the floor. "Every time that dojo was destroyed, I was the one who rebuilt it, occasionally with help from Akane or Ryoga. Neither Tendo-san nor the old man really contributed to the task. For the first time I knew what it meant to create rather than destroy. I became an excellent carpenter and later an architect of sorts, or at least an artist."

"And that is good-" Ranma held up a hand to stop her.

"It took years mother," Ranma said simply. "Years where everything continued to fall apart around me. Now, here, in this brave new world, I have a chance to build, to give my skills to people who need them. For me, this is the first time the Art has become a power of Creation rather than simple Destruction."

"Do you truly feel that way about the Art?"

"I have fought battles that destroyed mountains," Ranma said flatly. "I killed a god when I was only 16. He might have been reborn afterwards, but that doesn't change anything. What good came of that? Enemies came back years later, looking to fight."

"Most of them became your friends, or at least allies, afterwards," his mother noted. "You and Herb write each other often. Taro is finally living with that nice girl, what was her curse?"

"An Asura, a warrior goddess," Ranma answered quietly.

"They are getting on with their lives," Nodoka pointed out. "Each is growing in ways neither could anticipate from years before. So are you, Akane, Ukyo and Shampoo. Ryoga owns a farm, the Kunos actually got some medication and became an upstanding family. Everything is changing. But that is not what you are really worried about, is it?"

Ranma said nothing for a long moment, trying to choose the right words. "It is far too easy for me to justify my actions in ways I never should. I can't even say c-cat much less look at one. I cannot be trusted to draw the line between training and abuse because it never existed for me."

"You have grown in the past ten years," Nodoka Saotome pointed out. "You have changed. You have become a father, a teacher, a master of the Art."

"I cannot keep a job because of the crazy people who still show up; mastery of the Art doesn't provide for my family; and I have children with three women because of some archaic honor code I was brought up with, but I was only really interested in marrying one," Ranma grumbled. "Ukyo is my best friend. We should have never become lovers. Shampoo is Shampoo, she hasn't changed as much. And Akane has grown up. These arrangements made for some horrid years, especially considering how better it would have been if there had been no arrangements."

"You cannot change the past," Nodoka cautioned. "You are a fine young man."

"Mother! I can't even trust myself to be a father, much less a teacher," Ranma said. "I don't know how to draw the line, much less where."

"It is good that you do not want to hurt your children," Nodoka said carefully. "But take a look outside. Look at that growing orc village in the valley. Each and every one of them is trained to protect themselves in this feudal world. Those dwarves and elves we hear about? They are all trained to protect themselves and what they care about."

"What are you trying to say mother?"

"I am saying that with great power, comes great responsibility," his mother said flatly. "You are the greatest martial artist I have ever known. You developed your own sense of honor years after your father's code broke everything. You have saved the lives of me, your father, your wife, your children and countless others. But that means nothing if you are not there to protect them." She stared him down with the haunted eyes of a mother who thought she might never have seen her child again. Those ten long lonely years were shadows on her soul, and she had done everything she could to survive.

"Weeks back, when the city was assaulted by demons, the mothers of your children were the only reason they did not slaughter everyone on that ship. They used the Art to protect the children. If Akane, Ukyo or Shampoo had been somewhere else when the tanarukks had attacked, you would have been a childless father. But one day, they are not going to be there." She stared him down once more. "You have a responsibility to your own children to train them to survive in a world that is going to try its damnedest to kill them. This is not Nerima. Not modern Japan where ramen is a phone call away. This is madness."

"What would you have me do? I have never trained anyone who was not already skilled in the Art," Ranma said. "I don't know how to train beginners. The old man did it by hitting me with a board until I blocked it. I won't do that to my own children."

"Then find a beginner, or someone close, who can take what you can do," Nodoka suggested. "Find someone who, by teaching them, teaches yourself."

"Who do you suggest?"

"If I had all the answers, we would not be stuck here," Nodoka said with a smile. "Go find someone who would appreciate the help. An older student will understand better than a child. Look at this as a quest, a way to better your self by helping others."

"I will think about it," was her child's honest response.

* * *

"I am so glad you have arrived," Kellindil grasped the arm of his friend and pulled her into a hug. He met her at the airfield where her Pegasus landed and pleasantly munched on tufts of grass. "Innovindil, this past month has been far too long. Did Tarathiel come with you?"

"Yes, he is flying in with Ellifain and Hallifain tomorrow. Ellifain has never flown before and we wanted to make sure she was safe," the moon elf maid said, pulling back from the hug. "How are you doing, living in this human city?"

"Not so human as you might think, actually," Kellindil said with an amused smile. "I have been meeting with a representative of the local community who seems to be hardly human. It goes by the name of Clem."

"Interesting," Innovindil said with a slight smile. "So, tell me cousin, how did you manage to convince the council to bring Ellifain here? The last I heard, she was to stay in the Moonwood."

"I did nothing, myself," Kellindil said with an amused look on his face. "I place that blame solely on the shoulders of Hallifain. I merely kept her appraised of the situation and she took care of everything."

"I will ask her what she said," Innovindil said with a conspirator tone. "If she has that kind of a silver tongue, maybe I could get her to convince them to give the rangers more support."

"Perhaps we should not ask too much right now," Kellindil said with a smile. "It is good to see you again, cousin."

"And you, cousin," the elf maid replied as she glanced around. "So when do we enter the city? Are they still on the alert?"

"After Hellgate Keep attacked, we all thought they would continue to attack," the blond elf said as they walked to a horse and carriage that was being used for diplomatic transportation. "So far there has been nothing, even to pick up the survivors of their army. Admittedly, it only makes me more worried."

"I as well," she said as she climbed into the carriage. "I thought you said they had horseless carriages for tasks like this."

"As I have been informed, they are conserving the fuel in case they need it later on," Kellindil explained. "From what I understand, it is an alchemical process of a naturally occurring substance from beneath the earth. Admittedly, I dislike the smell greatly."

"So interesting that they are returning to more traditional modes of travel," Innovindil commented with a wry smile.

"Something tells me it will not last," Kellindil replied as he shut the door. "So how is Ellifain feel about meeting Drizzt?"

"We decided not to tell her," was his cousin's answer. Kellindil's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"You didn't tell her? I do not feel this is something that should come as a surprise," Kellindil said, clearly dissatisfied with the decision.

"We went with Hallifain's lead on this," Innovindil admitted. "She has been with Ellifain almost nonstop these past few years since she came from Evereska. We all feel she knows Ellifain better than any of us."

"I just fear this could end very badly," Kellindil said, a dark expression crossing his face. Innovindil rested a hand on his shoulder and he calmed. Looking up, he smiled. "Regardless, let us take a tour of the city. Some parts I am not allowed to visit yet under the argument of 'national security.' They seem almost cavalier about the secrets, taunting that they are keeping the secrets, but not allowing anyone to know what they are."

"I would love to see this new city," Innovindil said with a grin.

* * *

Every night, after all the other work had been completed for the day, the Scooby Gang made it a point to catalog any supernatural activity. They would spend several hours researching and training before heading out for patrol. This was almost just a formality at this point, all they usually found were a few starving orcs trying to sneak into the city. Buffy would subdue them and a team would escort the wayward orc back to the village with a supply of food. This had not happened in some time, so it was thought that the orcs were getting used to the aid packages.

From recon teams that patrolled beyond the perimeter of the city, Sunnydale was taking notice of the herds starting to collect in the valley, it looked like the orcs were going to have plenty to eat for a while. Some reports suggested some young animals of greater size and strength were instead being captured. For now, it seemed like the captured animals were being used as work animals, but there was some suggestion that the orcs might be planning to attack. So far no one knew for sure, although most of the ambassadors suggested extermination, something that was rejected outright by those in power.

Tonight, like most nights in the past few weeks, the Scooby Gang was attempting to divine the identity of the strange girl with the skull. So far they had little to show for it.

"I really am lost at the moment," Giles admitted, pulling off his glasses and pacing around. "We have investigated nearly every mystical tome in the library and I must make a fresh pot of tea."

"I just looked in Galen Sword's book of 'Legendary Creatures and People,' but there was nothing," Willow said. She peeked out from behind a large stack of books she had searched through for the third time that week.

"Yeah, got nothing here either," Buffy said from the book she had been napping on.

"It seems that our little visitor had never been to Earth," Giles conceded. He was beginning to give up hope that they would ever find anything. He had the most extensive occult library in Sunnydale (that was to say, the only occult library of any significance), so if she was not recorded in his collection, Giles highly doubted they would find evidence of her in other places.

"Um, I'm not so sure that's true," Xander said from in the stacks. He walked out with a large book in his hands.

"Xander, that is a art history book. I highly doubt that some being of great power would be featured in the sections you tend to peruse," Giles said, noting the classical nude on the dust jacket. Xander just shrugged and glanced at the cover.

"True, this is what first caught my eye," he admitted. Turning the book around he displayed a page showing a collection of Greek bronze statues. Pointing to one in the lower left corner, he grinned triumphantly. The bronze was the spitting image of their visitor. "But that brought me to this."

"Oh good god."

"What is it?" Drizzt asked, speaking up for the first time. He was not much help with research as he could barely read anything without the amulet, but he was quickly getting the hang of coffee runs and fetching dough nuts.

"I shall have to consult my books further," Giles said, his eyes fixed on the text next to the image. "Why don't you all go on patrol? I shall have something tomorrow."

"Sure thing, Giles, see you laters!" Buffy, suddenly awake and perky at the thought of no more books for the night, hopped up and skipped out the door.

"I knew her speed was increasing, but that was far faster than expected," Giles muttered. He turned to the others. "Meet me at City Hall at Nine tomorrow. I shall call for a meeting with the advisors. This is going to take some time."

"Any hint as to what's got you so worked up that we have to come in so early on a weekend?" Xander was more than a little curious and/or scared of whatever could illicit such a response from the librarian.

"Just allow me to say that if my suspicions are correct we have a greater problem than I first anticipated," Giles said quietly while flipping through the art history book.

* * *

Buffy bounded into the door of the refurbished Summers house with Drizzt close behind her. Happily free of the tedium of research, she had patrolled the various cemeteries, but there hadn't even been one neophyte since the last battle against the demons. It was starting to just be an exercise for her and Drizzt. With their new responsibilities the others had stopped patrolling with her since it was getting harder and harder for them to keep up with her. If she went full out, even Drizzt wouldn't be able to keep up for very long. The two walked in to find Joyce Summers just getting in, even though it was long after sundown.

"Oh, Buffy, Drizzt, did you have a nice patrol?"

"Kinda boring. Only one Fyarl demon who got lost," Buffy said stuffing a muffin in her mouth. Drizzt just bowed slightly in respect to the Summers Matron. He was not using the amulet of translation, so he only partially understood what they said. The amulet tended to jingle, which didn't help on patrols.

"I'd like you both to sit down. I've got something I want to talk about," Joyce said seriously. Without hands, Buffy quickly finished the whole muffin before sitting down at the counter. Drizzt did the same, but put on the amulet. "When I was attacked by the demons, I was sent to the hospital. Thank you Drizzt. When I was there, the doctors were a little over zealous in their testing, but it all turned out for the best."

"Well, you're up and going, so I'd say yeah," Buffy said as she drank a glass of water from the tap.

"Actually, it was a longer term good news," Joyce said. "They found a spot on my brain." All color drained out of Buffy's face when her brain processed the information.

"That's not good news, that bad, bad news," Buffy said with a side of frantic.

"Buffy, Buffy-They found it early," Joyce said, pulling the girl into her arms to calm her down. "That means treatment can start early and I have a better chance. I might not even need surgery if the treatments work."

"I do not understand, what is this spot and why is it bad?" Drizzt asked quietly.

"It means I have a disease and it is good that they discovered it early," Joyce said warmly. "Drizzt, you might well have saved my life in more way than one."

* * *

"Ellifain, welcome to Sunnydale," Kellindil said as the three elves dismounted from their pegasi. All three flying horses were pure white and glistened in the morning sun. The three had been escorted by a ultra light glider dropped from a mountain cliff as a substitute to the distinct lack of helicopter fuel.

"Greetings Kellindil," said Hallifain from behind the elf child. She was dressed in a formal gown that was at the same time fully practical for flying. Innovindil pulled her lover into a close embrace.

"How was your flight, lover?" Innovindil asked Tarathiel.

"Cool, calm and quiet," he replied. He had dressed in elven chain-mail that covered him from neck to foot. All the same, it had the appearance of formal wear.

"Come, I shall show you the town," Kellindil said, sweeping the youngest moon elf into a quick embrace.

* * *

The next morning all the advisors were gathered in the City Hall conference room. Giles was at the front of the room with a slide projector and two assistants helping him with the video projector. As the rest of the people settled in, Giles began to speak.

"As most of you know, we were visited by this individual," Giles said as he clicked onto an image of the mystical child looking up at the security camera and sticking out her thumb in a rude gesture. He clicked through several slides, most of which showed the girl making faces at the camera or paying with "auntie's skull." "As you can see she does not appear to be much of a threat, except that she is clearly very powerful. She appeared in the War room without being detected anywhere else, her so called brother also did the same." He clicked to a slide with a shot of the young appearing man. "After three weeks of research, we had nothing about these two individuals."

"That is, until last night when Xander found this image," the watcher clicked to a slide showing the statue of the girl. "This is an image of a Greek bronze statue from around 700 BC. As you can see, the resemblance is far too close to be accidental."

"Do you expect us to believe that child and the statue are the same person?" Even after everything he had seen, General Hennessey was a little skeptical.

"Actually, I do believe the bronze is based on this girl," Giles said. "It is not uncommon to have supernatural beings live for many centuries. Angelus was almost two and a half centuries old and you met him. There are many vampires much older than that. Buffy has slain two of them: Lothos and the Master."

"So who is this girl supposed to be?" asked Joyce who seemed to be taking the news better.

"That is slightly confusing," Giles said. "Depending on the source text, the statue is attributed to one of two individuals: the oracle of Delphi or the child of Eris, the Greek Goddess of Discord."

"Wait, this is either an insane, immortal seer or the god Strife?" Amelia Chung said surprised. When people looked at her confused, she shrugged. "I like mythology."

"Yes, however, Strife is usually considered to be male," Giles clarified. "I was unable to discover more reliable information on the various myths and legends, but one of the more common legends includes how Eris started the Trojan War by creating a fight between the other goddesses using a golden apple. The apple was inscribed 'to the fairest' and the goddesses chose the Trojan Prince Paris as the judge. Paris resolved the divine conflict, choosing Aphrodite as the fairest and was promised the most beautiful woman in the world as a bride. Unfortunately, Helen was married to another man. She and Paris fell in love and ran away to Troy. One minor act brought about the entire conflict."

"So what are we supposed to do with this information?" Maggie Walsh asked with her arms crossed.

"She may well be responsible for everything that has happened to us since the Acathla incident," Joyce put in. She looked to the Scoobies who looked like they were waiting for something. "What?"

"Sorry, we just thought they'd show up when we were talking about them," Willow explained with a shrug. "The girl has a tendency to show up at the strangest times."

"So are we supposed to believe some kind of god is wandering around manipulating everything from the shadows?" asked Maggie Walsh again, still annoyed by the unscientific analysis of it all.

"As much as you might doubt, believe that there are beings out there with the power of gods that could crush us all with the merest of thoughts," Giles said grimly. "For now we are alive, but we need more information on their goals and weaknesses."

* * *

"And this is the Sunnydale City Hall where their entire society is run from," Kellindil said, finally ending their morning tour. "We are what the locals call 'tourists' because we 'tour' around the city."

"So their people actually do that, simply go to a place to look at things, no other business?" Tarathiel asked incredulously.

"So I am told, yes," Kellindil said with a smile. "Not so much these days because they are building as fast as they can."

"From what you initially described, it seems like they are taking steps back towards a more traditional lifestyle," commented Hallifain, glancing around at the horse drawn carts that carried building supplies through the town.

"I can assure you, that their 'traditional' is very different from our own or that of any other human culture on Toril," Kellindil said with a smirk. He shot a smile at Ellifain, who had not spoken a word since they arrived. She was simply stone faced as they walked through the town with their Initiative escort. She seemed to have no emotional reaction to anything; not even the rancid smells of petrol cars, refuse from the Doublemeat Palace or welding seemed to provoke a response. He glanced up at the clock on the City Hall tower. Soon the meeting would be done and they would travel to their respective job sites.

The Sunnydale obsession with time was incredible. They had specific regulations for starting and ending work, instead of simply working until the work was done, like an elf or dwarf would. They had a significant night life as well when one considers the lights up around the town.

"I for one am glad to see our new neighbors from this perspective," Innovindil said, smiling brilliantly at her lover. "Perhaps we could go sit in a park and watch the moon tonight."

"Actually, cousin, that might not be a very good idea," Kellindil corrected before Tarathiel could respond. "From what I understand, Sunnydale suffers from a vampire problem and, though it is reportedly safer than it has been in the past, I would not recommend straying alone at night unarmed, and we are not permitted to bear arms within the city limits."

"Have they no Clerics or Paladins to hunt them down?" Hallifain asked, a bit confused.

"No, not as we see them anyway," Kellindil answered. "Instead, their world has the Slayer."

"The Slayer, what is that? Some kind of creature?" Tarathiel asked.

"No, from what I understand, and let me quote this correctly 'in every generation there is a Chosen One; one girl in all the world, gifted with the strength and skill to fight the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.' I believe that is correct," the moon elf said.

"One girl for an entire world? Their world must be overrun with demons and vampires!" Innovindil was positively scandalized.

"It is rather worse than that," Kellindil said sadly. "When one Slayer dies, another is called. And due to the rather young age they are called, a slayer is unlikely to live for more than a year. Buffy is rather odd to have lived three years as the Slayer and from what I understand that has much to do with her friends."

"Wait! If this Buffy is the Slayer and she is here, what of her world?" Tarathiel said, positively horrified at the thought. Kellindil simply shook his head sadly.

"I have no knowledge of how their world fares," the blond elf admitted. "It seems it has become something of a taboo subject with the citizens. Apparently, they have lost hope of returning to their world after Alustriel said it was impossible."

"So they plan to make this their world," muttered Ellifain under her breath, so quietly even only Hallifain's elven hearing picked it up, and only then because the elf maid was standing right next the elven child. The other three elves never seemed to notice.

"I cannot imagine how it feels to be trapped away from everything you know," Hallifain commented, letting Ellifain's comment pass.

"It seems their determination keeps them going, although it must be worse for those only visiting Sunnydale," Kellindil commented. "A number of the people who are trapped here when they were only tourists."

"It must be horrible for them," Hallifain emphasized. All the elves looked up as the city hall clock tower began to chime ten o'clock.

"If just occurred to me that the meeting is about to adjourn, if you would like to meet some of the city leaders," prompted Kellindil, this being the preplanned time to introduce Ellifain to the Scooby Gang and later to Drizzt. The Scooby Gang was going to be an acid test for a reaction and if all went well they would introduce Drizzt to her. Kellindil wanted to inform Drizzt of their plan, but had been vetoed by the other members.

"I think that would be a wonderful idea," Innovindil said warmly. Noting a group of younger humans walking out the front door, followed by a group of older humans, she nodded towards them. "Would that be the group?"

"Yes it would," Kellindil said, slightly woodenly. Later, Innovindil would taunt her cousin on his poor acting, one ranger to another. Kellindil waved to the Scooby Gang. The younger humans walked over quickly, recognizing the elf. "Buffy, Willow, Xander, I'd like you to meet my Cousin Innovindil, her lover Tarathiel, Hallifain and her charge, Ellifain."

"Hi!" Said the perky blonde Buffy. "I think it's cool that people are coming by to visit. I'm Buffy Summers." Innovindil took her hand and shook. The handshake was perhaps a little too vigorous because although she had been prompted by Kellindil, she put a bit too much effort into it. If it was anyone but Buffy their arm would have been sore.

"Greetings Buffy, I am Tarathiel," the tallest elf said with a grin. "Kellindil tells us you are the Slayer."

"Yep, I'm the girl that's destined to kill all the nonhuman things around," she didn't even notice her own slip, but it was not missed by the others. Most ignored the mistake, already knowing they had come from a human only world. "But today I'm construction girl."

"Hi, I'm Willow Rosenberg," the redhead said shyly.

"Willow is a practicing witch," Kellindil said to the others. The girl's face turned as red as her hair.

"I'm not really that good," Willow stammered. "I mean, I practice and Evelyn says I've gots lots of power, but not ."

"Breathe Willow," the dark haired boy reached out and shook Hallifain's hand and winked at the obviously younger Ellifain. "I'm Xander."

"Well met, Xander," said Hallifain with a slightly mysterious grin.

"It was nice to meet you all, but we've got to run to work," Xander said. "The meeting ran longer than expected and we're a bit late. Oh and piece of advice, don't go down Mayfield today. Housecraft is hosting a protest and they might get nasty if they see you. The whole group is a bunch of racists."

"Thank you for the advice," Tarathiel said, acting overly polite to the group.

"Good Work," Kellindil said with a smile.

"Oh, if you're staying a while, you might want to show them around the lake it's got some great views of the valleys," Buffy suggested. "I especially like the view to the south east."

"We might well take your advice," Kellindil said.

"Buffy! Xander! The foreman is looking for you," a voice called out. Heads turned to see Drizzt Do'Urden jogging over to them. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, unarmed, but still noticeably Drow. He skidded to a stop when he spotted the Elves. "Oh, forgive me. It is an honor to see you again Kellindil."

"And you Drizzt," Kellindil said, inwardly panicking. This was not going to plan. He could only wonder how Ellifain would react. Glancing at the elven child, he saw her tense up a moment before she threw herself at the dark elf, fingers tensed as claws. Drizzt seemed to notice the attack at the last possible instant and side stepped out of the way. Ellifain spun on her heels and attempted to jump him again. She was intercepted by both Buffy and a Blaster bolt, knocking the elven girl to the ground unconscious. The other elves swept in to grab the unconscious girl. "Forgive me Drizzt, I did not think she would react so."

"Her face! She," Drizzt said, cutting himself off as he recognized the girl.

"Yes, she is the girl you saved in that raid to the surface," Kellindil said.

"But how, she-"

"We decided it was the best way for her to heal inside was to face her fears, namely you," Kellindil admitted. "We were wrong."

"Once again, please forgive us," Innovindil said, genuinely surprised at the elf child's reaction. "We had no way to know she would react this way."

"Is she alive?" asked Tarathiel to Hallifain, who held the girl's body.

"She will be fine. A blaster will only knock her out for about fifteen minutes," one of their Initiative escorts answered. "I am calling a coach to take you back to your quarters."

"Kellindil, why didn't you tell me?" Drizzt asked, clearly confused.

"Hallifain said it was the best to let it be natural," Kellindil said. "Clearly we were wrong." The elves turned to see a hummer drive up and park beside them. "Please, Drizzt I would like to discuss this with you at a later time." The dark elf seemed a little numb. For the girl he had saved to have that reaction, the trauma must have been great, much worse than his own.

Soldiers got out of the Hummer and helped the elves place the child on a stretcher. The other elves sadly followed into the vehicle. Giving the Scooby Gang one last repentant look, Kellindil climbed into the back and the hummer rolled away.

"Drizzt," the dark elf turned to Buffy who was clearly confused. "What was that all about?"

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Ellifain awoke from her involuntary sleep on a bed in an elaborate room of dark wood paneling. Hallifain sat on the bed next to her. Looking up at the older elf, she blinked.

"How are you doing, little one?" asked Hallifain.

"Was it real?"

"Yes, it was all real," Hallifain said quietly as she stroked the elf girl's hair.

"They are friends with it? Friends with a drow?"

"Yes, it appears that they are," the older elf said kindly. Ellifain didn't say anything for a long couple of moments as she stared unblinking into Hallifain's eyes. "Is there something else?"

"I-" the elf child hesitated.

"Go on, I won't be ashamed of you." Ellifain paused another long moment before speaking again.

"…I just wish they could all see themselves the way I see them," Ellifain said with complete honestly. The instant the words were out of her mouth, Hallifain's face suddenly turned a mass of wrinkles and demonic scar tissue.

"Granted."


	25. Chapter 25

"So, Mr. Angel, what reason do I have for allowing four monsters into this house of worship?" the priest asked smugly, leaning just inside the doorway of the temple.

"Bloody let us in you stupid bint! The suns gonna rise!"

Angel sighed. Spike was not making their travels very easy. This was the fourth time something like this had happened in the realms. It had been almost two months since they had left Sunnydale and followed the river south. As they traveled they were able to feed on various animals they could catch. Oz had caught up to them two weeks before having caught their scent. It was a little strange, but the boy never seemed scared of the trio of vampires.

"Spiky! Daddy, miss Edith is scared," whined Dru as she tugged on Angel's sleeve. "My Angel, Hot, Hot cakes and cooked dust!"

"That's not going to work," the priest said. She glanced at Oz, who had said nothing.

"Please, we'll die out here if we stay out here another five minutes," Angel pleaded. He jingled a bag of coins. "We can pay if that's what it takes."

"So, you admit to being vampires," the still smug priest said. A half elf, she seemed to lead a small convent of moon worshippers.

"I'm not," Oz said simply. "Werewolf."

"Well, that changes things," The priest said, moving aside. "You, young man, may enter. The others may burn."

"Actually, I was kinda hoping they'd live," Oz said.

"And why is that? And why have they not yet killed you and made you one of their own?" The priest asked, genuinely curious.

"No way I'd sink to drinking werewolf blood! Like drinking rats!"

"I'm not really a bad guy," Angel said, nervously glancing at the brightening horizon. They had usually been able to find caves and the occasional abandoned ruin to hide in (they had actually found some interesting artifacts and items that looked expensive and plenty of coins of various precious metals). Today was different. A flat open grassland where the only structure was this single temple.

"Yeah. He's not evil now," agreed Oz. "He got better."

"Not helping, Oz," said a very nervous Angel through gritted teeth. He constantly glanced at the horizon.

"Hey, you're starting to smoke," commented the werewolf. He turned to the priest again. "He helps me. And they're with him."

"And why is a werewolf such as yourself traveling with three vampires?"

"Safer than traveling alone."

"Bloody well is. Hell! Let us in! The bloody sun is about to bloody rise!"

The priest glanced at them for another long moment. Angel's eyes never left the ever brightening horizon. The smoke was getting stronger off the three of them. "Very well, you may enter the temple, but not the living quarters. We shall discuss this completely in the prayer room."

The three remnants of the order of Aurelius scrambled into the shadows with a furor few could manage. The priest grasped her holy symbol from around her neck, clearly prepared to do what was necessary should she be attacked. The one with the blond hair actually growled at her, but stopped when the woman put a hand on his shoulder.

"No, no, no Spiky," Drusilla said. "Dirty night sun blood."

"What's that Dru? My Love have a vision?"

"I believe what the seer means is that my blood runs with moonfire," the priest said with that same smirk. "Drinking from me, or any of the other maidens would burn you as surely as the sun you tried to escape." Still keeping the smirk, she pulled a cord which retracted the cloth roof over the walk way. The three vampires smoked for an instant before shoving themselves deeper into the shadows.

"Soddin quit it with the bloody attacks!"

"And before you try to kill me, never forget that I hold the power in this Convent," she said simply, with an oh-so-innocent face. "Should anything happen to me there would be drastic results for you three."

"Three? There's four of us here," commented Angel, glancing at Oz who simply shrugged.

"A werewolf who wishes to repent his evil nature has nothing to fear from the Church of Selûne," said the woman with that same smirk.

"Cool," said Oz. But Angel looked indignant.

"But I want to repent too!"

The priest just smirked.

"Hey," Oz said as he realized something. "You're speaking English."

* * *

Back in Sunnydale

The friendly demon looked up at the shadow that appeared in the entrance to his crypt, recognizing the figure. He waved and offered a snack.

"Oh, hi," Clem said with a smile. His ever present stash of chicken was next to him. "What brings you to my crypt?" The attacker never said a word, simply pulled out a sword very slowly from its scabbard. "W-why are you pulling out a sword? We're friends right? I mean, we get along, right? I don't eat people or hurt them. I'm just a demon."

The attacker pulled back and struck the floppy skinned demon in the neck. He tried to defend himself, he really did, but after a few strikes the demon was dead in a pool of his own blood. A moment after his head rolled along the crypt floor, the attacker cleaned the sword on their shirt and stalked out after new prey.

* * *

Drizzt was confused. That girl was alive. The concept was almost inconceivable. He knew he had saved her, but to meet her again in Sunnydale, so many leagues from where they first met…it was overwhelming to say the least. He had been in a funk for a week and seemed to be hiding from the sun.

"Drizzt, if you're going to stay sulking in that room for much longer, I'm going to have Buffy drag you out by your ankles," Joyce said, glaring at him from the doorway. He looked up at her with sad eyes. He had been sitting in the same position, with his legs pulled up, his arms pulling them to his chest. "Don't think I'm joking. I might even do it myself." When he still didn't respond, the matron of House Summers marched right over and pulled the immature elf out of the room by his ear.

"Ow! Matron Joyce, please!"

"Finally, a reaction," she said with a huff. "Now you are going to walk down those stairs, march right into the bathroom where there is a fresh set of clothes waiting for you. You will bathe and then you will sit at the kitchen table and have breakfast like a civilized individual. Do you understand me?"

A little trickle of fear shot up his spine, prompting him to quickly nod and comply.

"Adolescents, honestly," she said before leaving for work. Buffy was almost easier to deal with.

* * *

"Oh, Buffy, I wanted to speak to you," Willow called out. The blond girl turned and brightened. Willow road her bike up to her and hopped off. "So what are you doing here off your work break? I thought you didn't get out until later."

"Hey Willow," Buffy said. "What's up?"

"I wanted to tell you about what's been going on in the mages circles," the redheaded witch said. "There've been more attacks on us lately. Amy got attacked again. She really got hurt this time."

"So what was it, demons? Vamps?" Buffy asked.

"…no, it was Housecraft's people," Willow said. "You should know about this. We talked about it a couple of days ago."

"Sorry, I've just been so stressed out lately," Buffy said.

"Yeah, Angel," Willow said with a certain emphasis. Buffy just gave her a confused look.

"What angel?"

"Oh, right, not talking about him," Willow said with certain understanding. "Cuz, boys suck."

"Yeah, that's why I like men," the Slayer replied, pointedly looking at the butt of a worker passing along the other side of the road. Willow was a little scandalized.

"Buffy! He'll see you!"

"That's half the point!" The blond said with a devilish grin. "Hey, I'll talk to you later."

Without waiting for the redhead to reply, the slayer charged forward and vanished over a cemetery wall. Willow just looked after the girl confused.

"What is with her?"

* * *

"So Joyce, how is young Drizzt?" asked the mayor as he opened the door to the carriage that brought him to work each day. Climbing inside she huffed a little.

"I'm not exactly sure, he had some emotional shock last week," Joyce said, sitting down between Nabiki Tendo and Mr. Chase, the economic advisor. "Buffy said it was something to do with a girl he saved, but I've never seen someone act like that when saving a life."

"He must have had a hard life," commented Nabiki knowingly, thinking of her brother-in-law. "A difficult childhood can have long reaching affects."

"You sound like you have some experience in the matter," commented Mr. Chase.

"Let's just say that my sister and her friends were known as the Nerima Wrecking Crew for a reason," she said with a wistful smirk.

"Any hope that he is going to get back to work anytime soon?" asked Mr. Chase to Joyce.

"I hope he does something," Joyce admitted. "Sitting in the dark all the time alone is not good for the psyche."

"I thought his people were subterranean?"

"You know what I mean," Joyce said with a flat look. "Purposeful isolation and lack of proper nutrition is going to hurt him in the long run. He is still a child of his people after all."

"Perhaps he should speak with another elf about the events," suggested the Mayor. "You might want to speak with the Ambassador from the Moonwood about his reaction. As I recall, he was associated with the people Drizzt met."

"I think I might," Joyce said wistfully. Kellindil was a handsome young thing after all.

* * *

"We had a truce!" the brachen demon said, holding her hands up above her head. The sword chopped through them like a cleaver through a carrot. Absently, the attacker kicked a demon child's body out of the way and stalked forward. A few strikes later and the demon nest was cleared out. The Attacker turned and left the house, jumping into the sewers and ran off for the next hunt.

* * *

"Oh, hey," Kellindil greeted his visitor. "It's good to see you. Joyce said you might be stopping by to talk. I'm really sorry we sprung that on you."

"I thought it was time we talked about the past," his visitor said simply.

"I agree. Wine? I notice you replaced your missing blade. Who was the weapon smith?" The elf turned and poured two glasses of wine and winced as a scimitar stabbed its way through his chest. A moment later, the blade was pulled out again and the Moon elf fell to the floor, clutching his wound.

He looked up at his attacker with a shocked look. "Drizzt…Why?"

The Drow looked down on the faerie elf with distain and absently cleaned the blood off his sword with a white silk napkin. He grinned evilly.

"The look of surprise on your face was priceless," Drizzt said with dark amusement. "I wonder how your cousin is going to feel when I go after her? She is staying in the city with her lover, right? And did that poor, poor Ellifain leave already? I was planning to have so much fun with her. Oh, well, one thing at a time and a chase is much more fun with out all those other distractions."

He spun around and marched out the door, not even bothering to keep the blood from tracking across the floor. A moment later, the dwarven ambassador walked in and then charged over to fallen elf.

"By Moradin's hammer, what happened here?" He grabbed a bunch on napkins and tried to stop the blood coming from the wound. "Agnar! Get a cleric!" Axegrinder heard his personal aid run to get the dwarven cleric stationed with them. "Kellindil, it was the Drow, wasn't it?"

"…it wasn't….," he tried to say, but the dwarf wasn't listening. He heard more people run into the room, some human, some dwarven. He felt so weak. He could barely speak. It wasn't Drizzt. Drizzt would not attack him, not like this. He passed out just before the cleric got to him.

* * *

Word had gotten out to the military and a stronger guard was stationed at the visitor's residence, a new building set up to house diplomatic visitors. Innovindil and her lover were considered VIPs and were afforded the most security.

"Ma'am, I regret to inform you, that your cousin, Ambassador Kellindil, was attacked an hour ago," Riley Finn explained to the elf maiden.

"What?! Is he alive?"

"Yes, he is stable, a healer was able to get to him before he died, but he is still unconscious," the Initiative Agent explained. Like most of the Initiative agents, he was still getting used to the idea of magical healing, or magic in general. "He's currently in the hospital being treated for his wounds."

"Who attacked him?"

"The Citadel Adbar ambassador seems to think it was Drizzt Do'Urden," the expression on Agent Finn's face clearly stated the man didn't believe the accusation. "We are investigating all leads. Right now we need you stay inside. Whoever did this might come after you next so we are strengthening your security detail."

"Tarathiel! I have to warn him," The elf maiden ran inside to speak with her lover. She arrived to see tears falling from his eyes as he stared at something out of her vision. Running into the room she saw the heads of their two pegasi nailed to the walls of their room. Written in blood in the elven tongue were the words "Welcome to Sunnydale." Everything was very fresh.

"This is Agent Riley Finn to all forces, the suspect has been here, search the entire building," the man commanded into his radio. "Use deadly force only if necessary, I want this guy alive." He turned to the rest of his team. "Graham, Forest, we're going over to the Summers house." Turning back to the two elves, he gave them a sympathetic look. "Please stay with the agents here. If you feel the need to arm yourselves, please do so now." His radio crackled.

"We found O'Neil, he's been drugged with some kind of dart, he's still alive," the voice on the radio said. "Completely unresponsive though."

"Get him to the hospital and a science team working on the dart," Agent Finn commanded. "Agent Gareth, you have command while I'm gone."

"The Drow use a poison that renders targets unconscious," Tarathiel said to Finn as the agents were leaving.

"Explain everything to Agent Gareth."

* * *

"Base, this is team 14, we've got someone headed towards the prison island," the radio reported with a bit of the snap-crackle-pop.

"Major, give us a description," said the Lt. Colonel on duty.

"Yes, sir, black hair, white robes, looks like he's late teens early twenties," the major replied. "The kid's dressed like Gandhi or someone like that. Appears unarmed. He's paddling a canoe over to the island where we keep those demon orcs that survived."

"Acknowledged, Team 14, please intercept him," the officer on duty said. It was the General's day off, so he was in command unless there was an emergency.

"Sir," the radio crackled. "It's Xander Harris."

"Are you sure?" the Lt. Col. asked confused. Xander Harris, who was standing behind the Lt. Col. shrugged.

"It's not me," Xander said simply. He was being trained as the liaison to the military for the Watcher's Council, having acquired some time off from his construction job.

"Team 14, say again?"

"The man is Xander Harris, he waved to us when we called his name," the radio replied.

"Team 14, that is quite impossible, Xander Harris is standing right behind me," the Lt. Col. said into the microphone. "Bring in the man for questioning."

* * *

"Willow!" Buffy called out. She was finally on her lunch break from the construction crew. Even though everyone claimed it was going really fast, a building a day wasn't enough for Buffy. It just seemed to go as slow as school. And that was slow.

"Buffy! Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, I guess, why do you ask?"

"Well, this morning you were acting a little weird," the witch said. "Oh, Tara's joining us again. We were going to go see Amy in the hospital."

"Amy's in the Hospital! Since when?" Buffy was positively scandalized.

"…Buffy, I told you this morning," Willow said hesitantly. "When we were pointedly not talking about Angel?"

Buffy just gave her friend a blank look.

"Willow, we haven't seen each other since yesterday and haven't talked since last night on the phone," Buffy said, clearly confused.

"But this morning, on my run, we talked and you had to go run off…you don't remember any of that," Willow said getting worried as Buffy shook her head in the negative. Willow chewed her lower lip in thought as she shared a long look with Buffy.

"Giles."

Together they ran off towards the secret base under the college.

* * *

Agents Finn, Miller and Gates were standing outside the door to the Summers house armed a little heavier than usual. Out of sight a dozen more Initiative agents were surrounding the house. Riley did not believe Drizzt was the assassin, but if he was, it was better to be armed than not. Quietly Graham knocked on the door and there was the sound of a scuffle. Riley nodded to him and the agent opened the door. Unfortunately this was the same instant that Buffy and a naked Drizzt flew through the front window, sending glass and blood everywhere. Buffy was armed with a heavy sword and all Drizzt had to defend himself was a pair of sticks from a broken chair.

Buffy brought the sword down towards Drizzt's head, chopping through the fragile pieces of wood. The dark elf spun out of the way as soon as the wood shattered in his hands. He kicked upwards, hitting Buffy in the abdomen. The force of it surprised her, even if it didn't hurt her. She stepped back a moment and that was all the time he needed. With a tumbling leap, he jumped back inside the house and ran upstairs.

* * *

A couple of minutes earlier:

"Mom, I'm home," Buffy called out as she walked in the kitchen door. "Oh, looks like there's breakfast ready. Waffles, waffles for Buffy!"

After scarfing down the cold waffles at Slayer Speed, she opened the fridge and chugged a large pitcher of water. Shutting the refrigerator door, she suddenly noticed a half naked man with black skin and long white hair with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Oh, Buffy," Drizzt said, "those waffles were for me." He was about to protest more, but his highly honed fighting senses told him to dodge and he did, taking a Slayer strength punch on the ear instead of the nose. "Buffy! What was that for?"

Drizzt was instantly on the defensive, but the Slayer was not giving an inch. The towel was gone almost instantly. "Take this demon, your kind isn't wanted in my house!"

"Buffy, what the hell is wrong with you?!?" He narrowly dodged another punch, this one completely, ducked low and grabbed a stool. One, two, three punches he blocked with his improvised weapon before the stool shattered in his hands, leaving only the legs which he swung like his favored weapons. It was obvious that this Buffy was not playing around. Sliding along the floor, using the fallen towel as a perfect method to glide along the linoleum, he managed to get enough speed. Skidding past the Slayer, he ran into the sitting room. This only gave Buffy enough time to draw her sword. Crashing together, Buffy forced the dark elf backwards one step at a time, finally swinging hard down at him, only to have her blade caught in the cross of the two improvised scimitar substitutes. Instead of pulling back, Buffy stepped into it, using her greater strength to crash them right through the window and into the front lawn next to the Initiative Agents.

Drizzt charged up the stairs, using all of his agility to reach his weapon before Buffy could attack him again. He just barely made it. The scimitar was in his hand, but not out of its sheath, when Buffy attacked again. If he had been encumbered by anything he might not have made it. Blocking her sword swings were much easier with a real sword, but the scabbard was going to be trash after this fight. Realizing the window was right behind him, instead of blocking her strike, he sidestepped, letting the slayer charge right out the window. The frame was shattered by the impact, and Buffy had managed to drag him out with her. Kicking hard, the dark elf surprised the blonde Slayer, but Drizzt didn't wait for the result. Rolling out from under her and running back inside to the upstairs bathroom, he grabbed a handful of Joyce's bath salts and threw them in the attacking Slayer's face. Temporarily blinded, Buffy spun backwards, out of the range. Drizzt snatched up the clothing Joyce had set out for him and ran down the stairs and out the front door. He almost made it.

With a roar of primal rage, Buffy, eyes streaming with tears from the salts he had thrown in her eyes, leapt out the upstairs window and used her momentum to strike. If Drizzt had not been as experience in combat, he never would have survived. Buffy's sword landed first, cutting the blocking scimitar and striking the pavement next to the wary Drow, shattering the pavement in a five foot radius.

Drizzt was getting more than a little scared and ran behind a car across the street. He winced at the sound of the glass shattering as the Slayer landed on the roof of the car. Still buck-naked, holding a sword in one hand and bundle of clothes in the other, Drizzt dodged out of the way, the Slayer's sword cutting the neighbor's garage door in two. Frantically, Drizzt ran back to the Summer's house where the Initiative agents were converging on their location. Weapons up, Drizzt hit the ground as the Agents shot their blasters, hitting the raging Slayer. If it had been anyone but Buffy, she would have been knocked out cold. Instead, Buffy simply ran off, leaping onto a roof and then bouncing from roof to roof until she was out of sight. As soon as the other threat was gone, the weapons turned to point at Drizzt. He dropped the remains if the scimitar and the bundle of clothes.

"I-give-up," Drizzt said, finally remembering to speak in English.


	26. Chapter 26

A short time later, the man, who was a carbon copy of Xander Harris was sitting in an observation room by himself, with a sweet smile on his face. From beyond the faux mirror, the General, Rupert Giles, Xander Harris and the major from Team 14 watched as a sergeant interrogated the man.

"He looks exactly like Xander here," General Hennessey said. "Is this one of those magic things?"

"Quite possibly," Giles replied. "There are many types of demon and supernatural creature that can mimic human form. The German doppelganger comes to mind immediately. They have the ability to completely copy an individual. I would recommend a blood test to determine if he is human or not."

"Do it," the general said to a subordinate who ran to get the proper supplies. He turned to the sergeant who was just coming in from the interrogation. "What does it look like?"

"From what I can tell, he's like a pacifist version of Xander here," the sergeant replied. Xander pointed to him self in a who-me? kind of way. "He claims to be on a goodwill mission to the prisoners to make sure they were well treated."

"So that's why his canoe was filled with bags of freshly dug wild plants," the major commented. "We don't even know if all of them are edible, but he seemed to think so."

"If he's right, it could solve some of our food problems," commented Giles.

"I want to know why he impersonated me of all people," Xander said.

"That is puzzling," admitted Giles with a slight smirk.

"Why don't we let him stew in there for a while," the General said simply. "We should all get something to eat while we wait for the blood test to come back."

"Sir, there's an urgent call for Mr. Giles," an aid said running up to them. Hennessey nodded to Giles.

"You can take it in my office," Hennessey said, leading the way. Giles picked up the phone, on the other end was a very frantic Willow.

"Willow, you need to slow down, I cannot understand," Giles said. He listened for a long time. "Willow-Willow! You need to make Buffy to wait for me…Yes, I am on my way back from the base. I will be there as soon as I can." He looked up to the general as he set the phone back on the receiver. "I'm sorry, I have to head back to the Initiative."

"What happened?"

"One of the ambassadors was attacked and evidence points towards Drizzt," Giles said, rubbing his temples. "With what we have seen here, I doubt it is actually him, but something impersonating him. I will be back momentarily."

"If you need help, just give me a call," Hennessey said simply.

"I certainly hope it does not come to that," Giles said honestly.

* * *

The Initiative offices were a blaze of action when the head Watcher finally arrived at the underground lair. Not only was the ambassadorial mansion hit hard, but so were three demon lairs and two of the seven Brachen families in the town. All were declared non-hostile. Gathering Riley Finn and his team along with the Scooby Gang he started going over the facts.

"So what has happened so far?" Giles asked. Forest started writing a timeline of the events of the day.

"First I think is my meeting with Buffy," Willow said. "Not this Buffy, the other one."

"About what time was that?" Forest asked before jotting it down on the whiteboard.

"9:30 about. I was running a text over to the campus from the Magic Box," Willow said.

"Next we have the attack against ambassador Kellindil," Riley put in. "11:25 or there abouts."

"Not necessarily," Graham commented. "The lair attacks could have taken place between them. They're almost a straight line if you match them up."

"That is assuming there is only one. Put the lair attacks with a question mark," Giles said.

"Then the Pegasus attack in the residence," Xander said. "We know that was after because the Agent O'Neill arrived as part of the security detail."

"The question is how someone managed to move from the Mansion to the airfield and back so fast," Graham said. All three Scoobies glanced at him and said one word.

"Magic."

"I agree, and after that there is the attack on Drizzt," Riley said.

"Yeah, because I didn't attack him," Buffy said. "I was here."

"But that's assuming you are who you say you are," Forest said with a grin. Buffy shot him a flat look. "Where is Drizzt anyways?"

"He is getting washed up again and dressed," Giles said. "And then finally we have Copy Xander headed for the prison island; which would place them at about the same time period. In that respect we can assume that there is more than one doppelganger."

"If there's more than one, wouldn't it be possible for each one to be a different one," suggested Buffy. They were interrupted by an aid passing Giles a note.

"The blood test confirms that the copy Xander is human and has the same bloodtype as our Xander," Giles said, glancing at the note.

"So are we talking a mirror-mirror kind of scenario?" Xander suggested.

"Mirror-Mirror? I am afraid I don't understand," Giles said.

"He's talking about an episode of Star Trek where the crew gets sent to another reality where there are evil versions of themselves," Graham said. When the other team members look at him askance, he shrugs defensively. "What? I used to watch it with my Dad."

"Yeah, the old Elemental Plane of Goatees," Xander said with a smirk. "Evil versions of every one of us."

"Actually, your doppelganger seems much more polite than you normally are," Giles said ribbing the younger man. Glancing up, he noticed a familiar dark elf striding towards them. "Oh, Drizzt, thank you for joining us."

"A pleasure," Drizzt said, using translation magic. Quick as a cat, he pulled a hand crossbow up and shot the watcher in the chest. The crossbow magically reloaded, allowing the dark elf to get off three more shots, hitting each of the Initiative agents in the neck or chest. With a dark grin, he vanished from sight. The four men struck with the staggered to their feet and slumped to the ground unconscious.

"Get a medic team in here now!"

A few agents ran into the conference room, helping the Scoobies lift up the wounded and poisoned men onto the table. As soon as the agents were done, more quarrels flew through the air, each one piercing the skin. A moment all those were unconscious as well. Buffy charged out the doorway, hoping to catch the assailant off guard. All she grasped was air and even her slayer enhanced senses were picking up nothing over the sounds and smells of furious agents.

Far above them, using his natural power of levitation, Drizzt grinned. "Idiot humans. They never look up."

* * *

Tara Maclay had been waiting for almost her entire lunch break for her friends to show up. So far, neither Willow nor Buffy had stood her up on their lunch break. She was still a very nervous person. Countless thoughts of self doubt ran through her head as she sat waiting for her friends to show up. She knew, logically, something must have happened, but emotionally it was a blow. They should have at least done something to mention they wouldn't be there. In the midst of this self doubt, the young witch never realized she was being watched until the very last moment.

"I knew I could do it," Tara looked up at the sound of Willow's voice. What she saw was not the Willow she knew. Instead of the cute, babbling redhead, a dark, twisted mockery hovered above the table. Hair and eyes stained black with nasty veins all over her skin. She, the thing that wore Willow's form, radiated power that made Tara feel sick to her stomach. "I found you again, Tara. Now, you'll never leave me."

"N-no! W-where is Willow? Or B-Buffy?" she could barely stutter out the words as she backed away. The other patrons started running away in panic. "Wh-what are you?"

"I'm Willow," the creature said in a tone that sounded like it should be obvious. "She said I would never find you again. She was wrong. She never understood what you meant to me. She never could. She never understood what she meant to me, either."

"I-I don't un-underst-stand," Tara said, backing against a wall. She started edging her way along the edge, hoping to get away, but the Willow look alike simply floated closer. It seemed to take no effort, but the taint, the evil seemed to radiate off of her in waves. "Wh-why me? N-no, stay a-away!"

"Nothing could ever keep us apart, never again," the creature with Willow's face said with a dark smile. With a sudden swoop, it was in arms reach of Tara, who franticly cast a spell of protection. There was a pressure and the spell failed under the magical pressure of Willow's presence. "I'll make you mine again. Nothing could get between us now."

"I d-don't know what you are," Tara said, summoning up every ounce of backbone she possessed, "but you aren't Willow."

"Oh, I am Willow," the creature replied with a smile that seemed half mad and half caring. She caressed Tara's face with the touch of a lover, but like everything about her-it, the touch was wrong. The impersonator's aura felt slick with an oily taint. "I just have a little extra. I'm willing to go as far as I can to achieve my goals. It took me a long time, but I realized the ends always justify the means. I just have to make you understand that this time. No one will take you from me now. We'll be together forever."

Knocking the hands away, Tara turned and ran. She didn't care where she went, she just had to get away. Running into a store, she grabbed the phone from behind the counter and called the number Buffy had given her for emergencies.

"Watcher's Council, what is the nature of your emergency?"

"I'm b-being chased by a-"

A burst of arcane power melted the phone in her hands.

"It's not nice to run away, Tara. We are destined to be together," with the tenderness of a lover, the dark creature that impersonated Willow caressed the sides of Tara's face, abruptly pressing against the blonde girl's temples. Tara felt the power run through the hands, but was powerless to stop the flow of invasive pressure.

"No, we aren't," Tara said with finality. The power broke past the young witch's mental defenses and entered her mind. With a stark abruptness that neither expected nor was prepared for, the divider between minds was breached and their two minds were one. In the dark Willow's mind Tara saw her own death, Willow's decent into darkness and felt all the emotion of an ancient being lost.

"You think you know, what's to come, what you are. You haven't even begun."

The Dark Willow's eyes unexpectedly opened with a jolt of fear.

"No! It can't be! You-HER! Why is it HER?" the creature said before breaking the connection. Tara saw pure murderous rage in the face of the being across from her. The dark version of Willow stepped back and the air seemed to shiver around her like heat waves off hot tar. Tara could feel the being gathering power and releasing it in one massive burst as she was propelled skyward.

"Stay away from her!" Tara turned to see Buffy, worn and nearly beaten, facing off that wore her friend's face, armed only with a broadsword.

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy…This is a tired game," dark Willow said with maddened grin. "You never had the power to stop me in the past. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

"Well, since I never fought something wearing my friend's face before," Buffy said, tumbling backwards into a jump that let her perch on a windowsill.

"Awe, not even poor Angel?" the Willow look alike taunted as she recharged herself with a blast of power.

"What angel? Why do you keep talking about angels?" the Slayer leapt up off the sill and struck hard in the side of the dark spellcaster. The sword bounced off like she was wearing armor.

"Why your vampire lover, poor Angelus," the sorceress said with a dark grin. "Well, the first vampire you screwed. Spike came later."

"I'd never love a demon," snarled Buffy, obviously loosing her self control in the presence of Willow. She made another charge, but this time was caught in a web of dark Willow's power. Lifted up, the Slayer struggled, but was fast in the grip of Willow's arcane power.

"Idiots," Dark Willow snarled. She waved her hand, sending the captured Slayer flying over Sunnydale. Tara was sure she heard bones crack as Buffy vanished from sight. Dark Willow turned back to the blond witch and shot her one last pained look. Power swirled around her and an instant later she was gone. Tara simply stared until the last traces of arcane power vanished from the air before her.

Tara ran to another phone and called the emergency number.

* * *

"I'm bloody starving, don't you people have any blood around here, a sacrificial lamb or something," Spike kept rubbing his stomach. Drusilla was fascinated by the temple and kept pronouncing things and was getting a little too touchy feely with the priest. It was frankly creeping him out. The last time she'd been like this was back when she'd last seen "grandmummy" Darla. The implications were not exactly something he was looking forward to. The git and the wolf were getting along famously. It seemed like he was the lone man out. Again. At least the Slayer wasn't here to bollix up the plans again.

They had been sitting in the central temple for several hours with the same priest looking over them. No other people had entered or left during their visit. They talked on various subjects and histories, but the woman made it clear that she held the upper hand.

"We are not in the business of feeding vampires although I believe we can find something appropriate," the priest said with some amusement.

"Knowing you, it's probably a Molotov cocktail," Spike grumbled. At her confused look he started to explain. "It's a bottle an' cocktail, but with a rag for a stopper and petrol instead of a nip. Light 'er up an it makes for a great night on the town."

"Interesting," the priest said. "You people are full of interesting tidbits. Are all people from Sunnydale as amusing?"

"No, They're Big Bads. They're different," Oz said as if it explained everything.

"Odd," the woman said. She didn't seem to mind Drusilla caressing her face like the vampire used to treat her doll.

"Silvery moon beams and slippery moon beans," the vampire seer said, wrapping her arms around the priest. The three men were a little confused by the complete lack of fear the woman emanated. "Woof! Meow! Heheheh!"

"Aren't you worried about a vampire being that close to your neck?" Angel asked a bit hesitantly.

"She cannot harm me," the woman said, petting the mad vampire lightly on the head. "And she knows this."

"'You can't harm me, I'm invincible,'" Spike scoffed. "Like I haven't heard that before."

"Then how about this one: 'there is more on heaven and earth than is dreamt of in your philosophy,'" the priest said with a grin.

"Oh, bloody great, the bint's quoting Shakespeare at us now," the vampire said, his inner poet cringing.

"So, Shakespeare?" Oz said, munching on an apple he found. "Or English?"

* * *

Buffy instinctively dodged out of the way from another quarrel from the hand crossbow. Judging the angle, she glanced up, only to see the dark elf in question perched in the rafters, cackling like a hyena. Spinning around, she caught the next quarrel before it could hit Xander. Willow cast a spell over them that made the bolts veer away.

"Very good," the not Drizzt said with a grin. "It has been a very long time since I've had this much fun. Why not even-well I'm not supposed to talk about fallen Houses, but let's just say that certain very important families in Menzoberranzan that are no longer with us were not nearly as interesting as your little city. It's almost as if I actually have a challenge. Not really, mind you, but its fun pretending."

"What have you done with the real Drizzt?" demanded Buffy through squinted eyes. Her hand was reaching behind her back to her ever present stake. The Drizzt copy rolled his eyes dramatically.

"So much opportunity, and that's the line you come up with? A sorry, sorry cliché," he said sadly. "I am the real Drizzt. The first and foremost Weapon Master of House Do'Urden, second House of Menzoberranzan, a mage and swordsman of no small repute, with kills to numerous to mention and many too high profile to brag about."

Buffy just looks at Willow and Xander sharing the same confused look. Buffy looks up at the elf claiming to be Drizzt. "The Drizzt we know isn't a mage and isn't House Do'Urden like the 20th or something?"

"Yeah, it had a high number, what do they mean anyway?" Xander asked, genuinely asking. It had the other affect they all hoped for, it got the copy Drizzt angry. With a roar of rage, the fighter/thief/mage hurled a beam of fire at the trio. Willow cast a counter spell, but knew she was going to be far too late. Just as they dove behind a wall for cover, a dark form leapt in the path of the fire. The ray impacted on his skin and dissipated.

Drizzt stood stoically against the magical onslaught, his natural magical resistance ignoring the attacks. "You'll have to do better than that," Drizzt commented to his counterpart in the tongue of the Drow.

"Drizzt, as happy as I am to see you, striking a dramatic pose in boxers doesn't quite cut it," Xander said from the shadows. "You're also unarmed."

"Yeah, He hit me with the poison before I could get completely dressed. At least I managed to keep those he poisoned from being incinerated," Drizzt said through gritted teeth. "I'll take care of him. You guys need to go stop the fake Buffy."

"Oh yeah, but what about the others here?" Buffy pointed to sleeping agents.

"They'll wake up in a couple of hours," Drizzt said, keeping his eyes on the evil version of himself. "And shut the lights off when you go."

"Won't you be blind?" Willow looked concerned.

"No, I won't." Drizzt kept staring down his counterpart, neither one making a move before the other. It was a match of wills. One Drizzt against the other. "Go!"

The Scooby Gang pulled as many as they could into the conference room before heading out the back exit and shutting off the lights. Finally. The instant the lights went out, Drizzt moved, not letting his opponent have the advantage of infravision. Carefully, he dove and spun, picking up a blaster that lay abandoned when the previous owner was shot by the poisoned quarrel.

"You of all people should know this only makes it easier for me to see you," the other Drow argued, having vanished from his perch on the rafters. The very nature of the room made it difficult for him to identify the location of his doppelganger. "You're unarmed even if you do find me. What are you going to do? Taunt me to death?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Drizzt called out, ensuring that the echoes would disguise his location just as well as it did the other one. He could see the marks of warmth in his vision, where the infra red spectrum pulled just a little further than normal vision, allowing him to see the ambient heat of people and objects. Living beings always showed up brightest under infravision with recently touched objects coming in second unless there was a greater heat source like a fire. A fire always ruined infravision, not because of the light, although many who had infravision were sensitive to bright lights, but because of the heat masking anything beyond it.

Drizzt was back in his element. For ten years he wandered the Underdark as the Hunter, a feral aspect of his being. Hunting by infravision or other senses, he was the scourge of his enemies in such an environment. And Drizzt suspected his counterpart had not had the same experience. Drizzt was unarmed, unaided and unarmored, and he had the lives of over twenty Initiative agents in his hands. This was not going to be easy.

* * *

The rest of the Scooby Gang had managed to escape undetected from the Initiative base. Along the way they had dragged as many of the unconscious soldiers into hidden spaces to keep them from being in the firefight. They were still not sure of where the copy-Drizzt came from or how he got into the base, but the first order of business was to find all their doubles. Giles' doppelganger was by far the easiest.

In fact, all they had to do was walk out the front door of the Initiative's faux Frat exterior to find a confused elf wandering around with Giles' face. He was clearly not violent, but the others around him seemed to avoid him like the plague.

"Excuse me, but do you-" the person simply walked away as if they had never even seen him. The elven Giles turned to another worker and started asking a similar question and got a similar result.

"Dear Lord, they don't even pay any attention to him," the real Rupert Giles said with a huff. Glancing at his younger friends he grinned slightly. "Rather not unlike real life."

"We need to get your double and get out of here," Buffy said, taking charge. "We need to get weapons so we can get the other me. Other me, that sounds so weird."

"Agreed. Perhaps we should-," Giles said, cutting himself off as he glanced at a flying woman. As the woman flew closer he was startled to recognize Willow with black hair and eyes. "Willow, I do believe that we have found your double."

"Whoa, I look…creepy," the real Willow said with a bit of amazement at the powerful creature that wore her face.

"She can fly? That's cheating!" Buffy exclaimed indignantly, standing with her hands on her hips.

"It's the new look: flying while veiny," Xander said with a grin. "All the cool kids are doing it."

"Yes, and I am sure she is doing it just to spite you," Giles said. "Come along, we should find all our doubles soon. I shall radio a team to seek out Buffy's."

"You are really getting into this whole master spy thing," Xander commented. "Last year it was all 'I am your Watcher' and now it's 'I shall radio a team.' I half expect Q to show up and hand out gadgets to us all. Should we start calling you G?"

"Seeing as we have no quartermaster and are already short on supplies anyway, I highly doubt there will be gadgets in our near future," Giles said dryly. At the blank look he explained. "Q is short for quartermaster."

"Ah," the other three said in unison as they approached the distraught elf. Buffy walked up and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh, good, yes. Buffy, I was looking all over for you," the copy Giles said, absently scratching one of his pointed elven ears. "This strange town is very confusing. Wait, when did you become human?"

"Since always, and this isn't a strange town, it's Sunnydale," Buffy explained exasperatedly. She turned back towards her watcher. "Elf you is kinda cute."

"Oh, good god," the real Giles said and then glanced at Willow who was quietly nodding in agreement. "Yes, well. Perhaps you could explain what happened here?"

"Oh, dear lord, you look like me, but human," the other Giles exclaimed.

"That would be because I am human," the real Giles explained.

"I can only conclude that I was pulled through a portal of some kind," the elven Giles said glancing around. "This is certainly not my Sunnydale."

"Wait, so there's some kind of funky reality thing where we're all elves?" Xander asked.

"Well, not you, Xander, in my reality you are just a human," the elven Giles said. "But my Sunnydale is on the ocean, not here and the buildings are rather different than yours."

"Ours used to be on the ocean, but then we got sent to another world," Willow said innocently. "Now we're in the mountains."

"And you all seem so calm," the new Giles said, giving his glasses a good rub down. "So what now?"

"I want you to stay with some of our soldiers for your protection," Giles said. "Xander will take you to the base. Xander, try and talk with your alter ego and see if he has a similar story. Buffy and Willow, go see out your counterparts, but do not engage them, just help us track them down."

"What about you?" Buffy asked giving him a sly look. "Trying to get out of work?"

"Of course not Buffy," both Giles said flatly. They continued in unison. "I shall consult my books."


	27. Chapter 27

Ranma was practicing her exercises on the roof of the new home she built to house her considerable family and friends. She had not bothered to change back into her male form since taking a swim earlier that morning. Hot water was much harder to come by these days. Although most new houses had indoor plumbing, few had water heaters due to the distinct lack of supplies in Sunnydale. The only heat in the new house came from a series of heating vents she had included on the suggestion of a Sunnydale architect and a Japanese bath. The latter was much larger than the old house, designed to fit more people and even keep some privacy, but with it being larger, it also made it harder to heat. And so she was still female.

Her new house was perched on a cliff overlooking a river valley on one side and had a great view of the newly christened Lake Sunnydale. She knew it was only a matter of time before more buildings popped up between there and the roof, so she had designed the house to be tall enough for a good view from the fourth floor. Most other houses were only two stories tall, so this worked in his favor.

Sunnydale was as strange in its own way as Nerima had been. She was no stranger to demons, although the kind she was used to were much smaller in stature and more prone to possession than destruction. She thought of the places they left behind, thinking it would only be for a short time. The brochure had made Sunnydale sound like a tiny slice of paradise on the California coast. Akane and Kasumi had wanted to visit, so she arranged a boat through the Kunos (who were finally on medication and doing quite well) and took their family and friends (minus Ryoga, who had taken a left when he should have gone straight) on a cruise across the ocean, stopping at Hawaii and continuing on to Sunnydale (where Ryoga had somewhere managed to arrive first…by foot).

The children were on their first trip and had been so excited. For years they heard stories of China and floating islands and heroic battles. They fully expected their mothers to be kidnapped by pirates or princes or combinations of both. She knew a few were hoping their father would be kidnapped, but they never said it in her presence. Thankfully, the days of kidnapping had ended when the children were born.

"So this is where you've been all day," the redheaded woman turned to see her wife hopping up onto the roof. Akane smiled as she brushed her long hair out of her face. She had grown it out again after the first was born.

"I needed to think," Ranma said.

"About what your mother said?"

"Yeah."

"You can do it, I know you can," she said, sitting down beside her. She passed her husband a kettle of hot water and waited for Ranma to turn male again.

"I just don't know where to start looking for an apprentice like that," Ranma said.

"Well, you can't do it by sitting up here," she said with a smirk. He just nudged her with his elbow. "Hey!"

"How was work?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Good, it's not what I was used to," she said. "Five years as a novelist and a mother doesn't set me up well for construction. Night shift?"

"Yeah, I'm assigned to watch over two crews building houses for some other families," Ranma answered. "They need people who can translate and I happen to know Chinese and English so I'm working with the Taiwanese crews." Ranma had finally spent some time learning languages in the university where he got a degree in architecture. "It's not perfect, but I can understand most everything and translate it."

"Whatever happened to that PRC cargo ship? Last I heard, they had barricaded themselves in," Akane asked.

"I heard some soldiers broke it down," Ranma replied. "Apparently the sailors were getting sick from malnutrition. They were in the hospital, but it looks like things are better now. How's the rest of the family?"

"Well, your mother's teaching the children and our fathers are their usual selves," she answered.

"So they're getting drunk and playing games," Ranma said with a voice that clearly stated he was not amused. "Do you miss the old days?"

Akane looked at him like he was insane. The question was out of the blue, but he should have known the answer. "No, I don't miss the old days. I was so angry, you were so stupid and our friends weren't really our friends for the most part. Why?"

"Just thinking," he replied.

"How we stayed sane, I don't know," Akane said. "Battles almost ever part of the year, the kidnappings, the destruction: it was chaos, pure and simple. Everyone was jealous of everyone else. We bickered and fought over everything. It would have been nice to have a normal high school life. It would have been nice to be able to date like a normal person. My life was hell from the moment Kuno made that speech. Coming back after the university was so much easier. Well, the fact that we had money coming in was a big plus as well."

"So you've forgiven Nabiki for publishing your diary?" Ranma asked with a sly smirk.

"Forgiven? Sure, but never forgotten, even if it did become a best seller," Akane said, with just the slightest tinge of venom.

"At least she published it under your name," Ranma said. "You own the rights, you got the money, and it started your career."

"Was it ever translated?"

"Into English? I don't think so, you could ask your sister," he said.

"Maybe I should try it," she mused. "Any possibilities on the training front?"

"You still want me to train with you, don't you," he said with a wry smile. It was an old barb in their relationship.

"I may have learned to deal with my anger on some subjects, but being treated like a porcelain doll still irritates me," Akane said honestly. "You need to get your head out of your ass and realize there are plenty of women who can take it. I have started training with the kids. So have Ukyo and Shampoo. We're going to pass on everything we know and we expect you to do the same."

"I wonder if I know too much," Ranma mused. Akane rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, that makes perfect sense," she said with a sarcastic tone. "Ranma Saotome, the man who wanted to be the best thinks he went too far. Get over yourself."

"It was just a thought."

"We both know I'm better than you were after you first showed up," Akane said. "Living in a whirlpool of chaos made that a necessity. I dealt with my insecurity issues, now you need to deal with yours."

* * *

"I don't get it," Xander said. "Why'd we just leave him there?"

"It is rather unorthodox isn't it," Buffy said, stepping in beside him.

"Buff, I thought you were off looking for-oh, wait, how do I know if you're Good Buffy or Bad Buffy?"

"What are you talking about Xander? It's me, Buffy Summers, the girl you brought back to life?" She said a little confused. "You know, your girlfriend?"

"Whoa, my WHAT?" Xander skidded back about five steps as his survival instinct finally kicked in. "Evil Buffy, right," he muttered as he glanced around for an exit, but on the open street between the two campus buildings there was no where he could run to in time.

"Don't you remember?" she asked as she sauntered up to him in a way Xander a fantasized about a year ago. "That cold, rainy night, soaked to our bones. Running away from Spike and Drusilla, you gave me my birthday present?" The copy-Buffy grabbed Xander around the hips and turned him towards her. Xander leaned back, not sure what was going on. "Your grandmother's ring?" She wiggled her fingers to let the gem twinkle in the light. He could feel her breath on his skin, just millimeters from his lips. "But Xander, how'd you get so young? And when'd your eye grow back? And where's my sister?"

Xander stammered, not really knowing how to answer the questions. Instead he optioned to try and slip away, but Slayer Strength was a pretty good preventative towards that.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Both turned to see a fuming Ms. Chase stomping over to them with a look of fury few could manage.

"Oh, great, it's the half-demon cheerleader," Buffy's copy said, still holding Xander's body firmly against his own. "I don't know how she escaped. I was sure she was killed when I blew up the Mayor."

"Cordy! Great!" Xander said, having the opposite reaction to the Slayer. "Help me!"

"Help you with what? Help get your tongue unstuck from between her tonsils?"

"Cordelia, shut up, I was just about to make out with my boyfriend here, so please excuse us," the copy Buffy said.

"'Boyfriend'?" the angrily fired question was directed at Xander rather than the Buffy clone.

"I don't know what she's talking about! She's not Buffy!"

"What, like when Angel goes all vampy evil/killy? Am I supposed to believe she turns into a slut when she goes evil?" the brunette girl crossed her arms and stared angrily at them.

"On the fact that the lives of the next generation of Harrises is currently in super strong her hands I am not going to answer that," Xander said in a moment of brilliance.

"What the hell is this 'angel' people keep talking about? And why is the leader of the half-demon ditz brigade all pissy about us?" the blond Slayer from an alternate dimension asked.

"Angel? Vampire with a soul? Tall, dark, handsome and broody?" Cordy illustrated with various hand motions. She continued to glare with the fiery gaze of a thousand vengeful suns. "You two got groiny and he went all evil again? Ring any bells, Blondie? And I'm no demon, I'm one hundred percent human!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the interdimensional Slayer protested. "I'd never become involved with some kind of monster like that. You're just sick and jealous of Xander and me."

"Ow! Slayer Strength!" Xander protested. He kept making faces to Cordy to get her to help, but she didn't seem to understand. Instead she threw up her hands and stomped off.

"Fine, do what you want!"

"Nononononono! Cordy, it's not what it looks like," he protested, trying to slip out of the grasp of copy-Buffy. She never used enough to actually bruise him, but there was no way he was slipping from her grasp.

"Finally we're alone," Buffy's doppelganger whispered into his ear. The tone spoke of things he had imagined, but had left in his past.

"No we're not! We're in the middle of the street!" Xander spun using a survival tactic that worked against vampires that wanted to drink his blood. It worked, but left him stumbling for purchase. Why did this always happen to him? The praying mantis woman was the first time, but this is just ridiculous. He started to run away, but Buffy's copy clearly, from the grin on her face, thought it was a game. She didn't even able to register surprise when Cordy hit her with a convertible, sending the Slayer flying.

"Get in," she commanded, throwing the passenger door open. The door wasn't even shut before the brunette floored the gas, running over the stunned lookalike. She didn't stop until they were away. "What the hell was that? And why was she calling me a half-demon. I'm no demon."

"Some kind of double," Xander explained, "We've all got 'em. I thought you were mad."

"All of us? You mean there's doubles of everyone in the city? And I am mad," Cordy replied.

"Well, I've got Super-Pacifist Xander, and Drizzt has Evil Drizzt, and Giles has Elf Giles, and Buffy has psycho-Buffy. And I thought you'd be more mad at me than you are," Xander continued.

"Then what's my double? And Willow's? And I am mad at you for that," the girl snapped back.

"I don't know if you have one; Willow's all veiny and can fly. And that was totally not my fault," Xander protested.

"I wonder what my copy's like. What do you mean hers can fly? Oh, yeah right, like you weren't getting all hot and bothered over a Buffy that wants you," Cordy snapped back.

"We don't even know if you have one! She can fly, that's what I mean. And what's that supposed to mean? I didn't want her, she was going to kill you!"

"I'd better have one! I'm one of the gang! And you know exactly what that means!"

"I guess you are part of the gang. And I don't know what you mean!" Xander glanced in the rear view and noticed an angry Buffy with tire marks running behind them and it looked like she was gaining on them. "Cordy, gas!"

Still glancing out the rearview, Xander heard Buffy's copy scream at him. "Xander! She's not human anymore! She's going to eat you once her visions are done!"

"After May, I'd better damn well be part of the gang," Cordy grumbled. "As if I don't know about your not-so-secret fantasies about Buffy, you only left a drool trail mile wide all sophmore year. And don't tell me what to do when I'm mad at you." Cordelia glared at her boyfriend who shrank back.

"Fantasies are done with now, and uh, Cordy, evil Slayer chasing us with a nasty looking knife that I didn't know she was carrying," Xander said as the Slayer continued to gain on them. Cordy glanced into the rear view and stepped on the gas again, and accelerated into the curve at speeds that threatened to roll the car. "It drives better if you keep all four wheels on the ground."

"Don't tell me how to drive!"

* * *

All the while, the real Buffy was trying to track Willow's counterpart. There was one big problem with this: Willow's double could fly, Buffy could only run. Even if Buffy had become faster than your average hart, she still had to dodge any number of physical objects. Houses were the biggest problem, but cars, people, fences and all other objects were almost as bad. The cars were just useless bits of metal that remained after the government had taken all the fuel simply sat in driveways and on streets. The few cars that were still allowed to drive around (including the vehicle Cordy and Xander appropriated) were used to move supplies and research quickly. Eventually City Hall planned to replace these with ponies, but had not gotten that far.

Willow was not even close to following either of them. The young witch stopped to pant when she noticed Cordy driving recklessly through the streets. She waved to the cheerleader and noticed Xander looking behind them. Cordy, noticing the redhead standing in the middle of the road, slammed on the breaks and stuck her head out the window. "Get in!"

Seeing Cordy's scared look as she glanced in the rearview, Willow jumped into the backseat of the convertible. The redhead glanced back to see Buffy's double charge around a corner a moment before Cordy slammed on the gas again. It was a bumpy ride.

"Wow, Cordy, you drive really well considering the first time I saw you drive," Willow said as they swerved out of the path of a thrown rock.

"Of course I do! I'm not friggen blind this time!"

Glancing in the rearview, the brunette noticed Buffy's evil clone almost on her tail. Slamming on the breaks, she skidded to a stop, letting the blonde girl crash into the trunk. Cordy wasted no time putting it to the hemlock and screeched away before the Slayer could get back up.

A couple of blocks away, the real Buffy heard the screeching tires and glanced to see Cordy driving recklessly around a corner. She was rather surprised to see the girl press the gas and not the break.

"Cordy! Stop! That's the real Buffy!" Willow screamed from the back seat. Cordelia glanced in the rearview, then glanced at the Buffy in front then glanced at the rear view again. The Real Buffy dodged out of the way, hiding behind a fence. The car carrying her friends flew by. Buffy swung her arm out at the last second and clothes lined her counterpart. The other Buffy rolled to her feet.

"Great, some demon wearing my face," said the Buffy with the tire tracks.

"I was about to say the same thing," was Buffy's terse reply. Both brought up their fists and circled each other.

* * *

Back in the Initiative Complex, Drizzt was trying to find his Evil Twin. He had to admit that he was just as skilled at hiding as Drizzt was at fighting. While all drow are trained from a young age to hide, a few are trained to the peak of that ability as scouts, or, as is more often the case, assassins.

Drizzt knew this is what his opponent had been trained in: stealth and magical prowess. But his voice, his movements: both were uncannily like his own. It was like looking into a mirror of what might have been if he had embraced his family legacy. It made him shiver with fear.

"It's strange being here," said his evil twin, his voice echoing so as to disguise his location. "So very different than home. So bright, more so than the last time I was on the surface."

"Are you just planning on making small talk?"

"No, just commenting. It's so bizarre," the evil Drizzt said.

"I've a question, why did you only knock out the guards when you could have killed them?"

"Killing normal humans is boring and easy. I like a challenge."

"Is that me?"

"Or the blonde, she looks like a real fighter."

"You can't handle her. Buffy would squash you like a bug."

"Funny you should say that," his counterpart said from in front of him. He peeked around a corner and saw the distinct shape of a dark elf in darkness, shinging brightly against the colder surroundings. It looked like the other elf was fiddling with a ring on his finger.

"A ring of invisibility is not going to help you hide from me," Drizzt called out.

"It's not a ring of invisibility," came the reply in his own voice. The effect was disturbing to say the least.

The exile from Menzoberranzan saw his counterpart shoot out his fist in a quick jab aimed at his head. Drizzt felt pain and then fell to the floor. He glanced over to see a chair floating in air, right where he head was a moment ago.

"It's a ring of Telekenisis," his counterpart continued, moments before Drizzt passed out. "I'll tell your friends you said hello."

A short while later, he awoke to find Riley Finn and his team standing over him. "Kid, you okay?"

"Ow! Yeah, he sucker punched me," Drizzt said as the humans helped him to his feet. "How long?"

"You've been out about twenty minutes since I woke up with an arrow in my shoulder," Forest said. "Kid, what was on that thing?"

"Drow sleeping poison," explained Drizzt. "It's a common tactic if you want to slow an enemy. It only wounds, so most will want to heal first. He must have been invisible when he shot you and when he hit me."

"So, why were the lights out?" Drizzt glanced around to see Agents arming up fully for an assault.

"Drow can see in the dark using heat," he continued. "I was hoping to use it to track him. I didn't know he was that good of a mage."

"We need to find him and the other doubles as well," Riley said. He tossed a jacket to Drizzt. "Suit up. You're coming with us. You know this guy better than any of us so we need you to get into his head and tell us where he's liable to screw up."

"He'll underestimate you after taking you all out so easily the first time," Drizzt answered. "You also don't trust that I'm really who I say I am, do you?"

"No. I don't," Riley admitted.

"You were just trying to cut off my cloths to check my leg wound, but I thought you were going to kill me," Drizzt said. "It was just before Buffy took out a stone giant with a cable."

"Yeah, he's who he says he is," Forest said.

"Of course I could have just over heard that and am using it against you now to make you trust me," Drizzt said, putting them on edge again.

"Why are you saying this? You had just earned our trust," Graham asked.

"First rule of understanding the Drow: trust is something only done by the dead," the Drow said simply.


	28. Chapter 28

Dark Willow watched the battle between the two Buffy's dispassionately. There were emotions about the situation before, but it all seemed so in consequential. Tara might be alive in this world, but she was not her Tara and never would be, no matter what Dark Willow could do. She understood that. Her entire existence here was the result of the proverbial monkey's paw. She had no desire to fight Buffy, either of them, ever again. She understood how everything she had dedicated herself to was superfluous to the greater good, something she has tried to dedicate herself to so many years before.

Now, she watched as Buffy fought Buffy. She watched as copies of herself and her friends were ready to break in, but scared about what the other Buffy would do. Xander and Cordelia still dating. Dark Willow remembered those days. She watched as the Initiative. There would be no ADAM in this world; Maggie Walsh was no longer involved. Riley Finn would never become Buffy's lover. And this other person, this Drizzt, was interesting. Not human, but not a demon, something else. And he was trusted. And then she saw herself. Younger, still in high school. Not yet glimpsing the consequences of dabbling in dark magics. Her magic was different. Cleaner. She was still pure, innocent and naive.

The thought disturbed the Dark Willow, flying high above the city of Sunnydale, masking herself from radar and visual detection. 'Was this what I could have been?' she asked herself. 'Did I do this to myself or was I a victim of fate?'

The Question became 'how do I change my fate?'

The Answer was not lost.

In her old world, Dark Willow had killed the man who shot her lover, her beloved. She understood exactly what she had done. She knew this Tara would never be able to accept her, knowing what she had done, and this Tara knew. The passage of thought had passed both ways. Where Dark Willow had explored the recesses of Tara's mind, so had Tara explored hers. And so Dark Willow had looked at herself through the eyes of another.

And decided this world was worth saving.

Rack was the first to be taken care of. The sorcerer was easily drained and left a husk. She deposited the door way to the hidden realm in a wall in the Initiative. The Hollow would remain, and perhaps one day, they would find a better use for it. She could feel the magical auras of artifacts discovered in her past, but not here. The Ring of Amara, the Glove of Myhnegon, and others she was unfamiliar with. She could feel the magic in the air, in the land, and in the water. Everything was connected.

Absently, in the midst of all this, Dark Willow considered the possibility that she might well be insane. It was certainly probable.

And so she took the magic that permeated all things and wove it around herself, around the Willow of this world and around Sunnydale and around her friends and, especially, around Tara. There was no redemption for her, but there may be for others. This Weave was easy to manipulate, so permeable. So alive. It was then, after all that, everything that Dark Willow had done, everything that had happened, from the first floating of her pencil to the complete destruction of Warren Mears, only then did Dark Willow understand. Magic was alive. Magic had a name.

Mystra.

Dark Willow spoke to the Magic and Magic spoke to Willow.

* * *

Buffy and Copy-Buffy were hand in hand, their weapons discarded and their faces twisted in rage. Buffy could see so much of herself in this other Buffy. So much of what could have been. A creature who killed for the sake of killing.

"You make me sick," Copy-Buffy snarled as she kicked at Buffy's legs. The blond jumped up, letting the kick miss well beneath her. "You are a dirty little demon lover."

"Hey!" Buffy snapped, but then cocked her head as she thought about the statement. "It wasn't really that dirty. It was kinda nice until the morning after...and the next couple of months…when he killed Ms. Calendar…and then he tortured Giles…and then I had to sorta-kinda kill him…"

Her copy rebutted the statement with a fist to her cheek. There were a few quips here and there, but the fight was brutal than most Buffy had against vampires. This was not a cat fight. This was a battle. As they trampled old Mrs. Wentworth's hydrangeas and kicked up the Harrison's corn, the two Slayers saw themselves in the mirror. The disgust was mutual.

"How could you possibly sleep with a demon? A Vamp? Some dead thing crawling around for blood," Copy Buffy continued. "And I've been cleaning up your mess all day. I took out the floppy thing and the spiny creatures. And here I find out you are actually letting them live as humans? You people make me want to hurl."

"Hey! They have rights too!" Buffy struck out with a fist, catching the other Slayer right on a tire track. She was in luck, because the pain was still fresh and Copy-Buffy doubled over in pain. Instead of attacking again, Buffy stood in triumph. This was a mistake.

Copy-Buffy grinned, flipping the stone of the sidewalk up with one hand, tripping Buffy. Copy-Buffy took the advantage and kicked Buffy in the chest. Lifting up the chunk of sidewalk, Copy-Buffy bludgeoned her opponent until she heard the familiar snap of bone.

"Who's right now? You run me over with a car, you beat me to a bloody pulp, and I still win! Who's laughing now, bitch?" Buffy rolled over on the ground, holding her wounded hand, and snapped the bone back into place. She somersaulted around and grabbed the other slayer by the feet. The doppelganger slayer was cut off in mid taunt.

"Might makes right? Is that what you're saying?" Buffy held her hand close to her side, but wiped the blood from her lip. One of the punches had split her lip, but she couldn't remember which one. "Shut the hell up with that medieval crap."

Buffy was pretty sure that was when might made right, but she wasn't sure exactly.

She still let Copy-Buffy get back up. In their brief pause, both took inventory of their injuries. Buffy knew she was limited with a broken hand, but she was still better off than her opponent. Copy-Buffy was clearly worse off. Getting hit by a car had to hurt, even to a Slayer. Buffy noticed her opponent glance to her left. Buffy realized her copy was glancing at the knife that had been discarded earlier in the fight. Buffy looked at Copy Buffy. Buffy looked at the knife. Copy-Buffy looked into the original's eyes and then back at the knife.

And then Xander grabbed the knife and ran back towards the car. Copy-Buffy tried to follow, but was stopped by a quick punch to the chin from Buffy's good arm. Xander jumped in the passenger seat and Cordy slammed on the gas, peeling rubber as they got out of the fight. Willow watched from the back seat as she saw her friend and her doppelganger in a new light. Both were beings of magic and were the most beautiful beings she had ever seen.

Buffy glanced up to see them drive off, she turned back only to see empty space where her copy was supposed to be.

* * *

Copy Buffy had taken the distraction to escape. She knew she was loosing. There was no way she could have won against an opponent like that after the day she'd had. So she had slipped into the access tunnels that had not flooded and made her way along through the darkness. It wasn't long before she saw two glowing red eyes ahead of her.

The dark elf in front of her grinned. It was about time. He watched as the human struck out with a fist. He blocked with his scimitar, cutting the tendons and relished in the scream it provoked. He liked screams. This blonde might not be the challenge he hoped for, but she could be fun.

* * *

Above ground, not so far away, Drizzt and the Initiative agents had just come out of the forest passage. Drizzt watched as Riley gave orders to his teams. Drizzt sighed inwardly.

"Riley," the Drow said simply. "You're not going to catch him that way."

"Why not? He has to go somewhere," Riley said, a little confused at the dark elf's comment.

"You think like a human," Drizzt said in a tone one would use with a child who refused to understand the meaning of "no." He looked the taller man in the eyes for a moment before explaining. "You will never find him when you think as a human. He is a Drow which means far more than you can understand right now. I'm the only one who can find him and stop him."

"Because you're a Drow?" Forest was clearly not convinced.

"Yes," Drizzt replied simply.

"You already got your ass kicked twice by the guy," Graham reminded. Drizzt unconsciously touched the back of his head. It still smarted.

"But now I know what to expect," Drizzt said. "I thought he was just like me. He isn't. He's a mage as well, and possibly a thief, but that's not a problem. I can do this."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Riley said, not really wanting to send a kid out alone.

"Keep watch over any known place where the access tunnels reach the surface," Drizzt said as he pulled his Initiative vest on. "He's not coming up during the day. It hurts our eyes and keeps us nearly blind."

"So what are you going to do?" Forest asked the young elf.

"I'm going to find him," Drizzt said, stepping into the shadows and nearly vanishing from sight.

"Are you going to kill him?" Riley asked, but there was no response. Drizzt was already gone.

In the tunnels, Drizzt ran, careful to move as quietly as possible. He avoided puddles and debris. This was a section that still connected to the largely flooded sewers. He had seen plans for the city. Not all the tunnels were mapped out for what parts were flooded and which weren't but he had a guess. The graveyards and the University campus were perched on higher ground so their tunnels only flooded at the lowest levels. This was especially important for a clandestine base like the Initiative.

Somewhere, his sharp elven ears picked up the sound of screaming. As he sprinted forward, he realized it was Buffy. Or a Buffy. Either way, he knew the sadist in his counterpart couldn't resist. He had said as much. Turning a corner he sprinted. Turning another, he sprinted again. He was getting closer and closer to the source. Soon he heard his own voice cackle in a way he never did. Slowing down, he peered around a corner and noticed his double torturing Buffy in ways intended to hurt, but not wound. It was a trap. For him.

"You might as well come out now," his evil twin said. "It took you longer than I expected."

Drizzt stepped out. There was little normal light in the tunnels, but with infravision he could see the entire scene. Buffy's wounded body, his evil twin and the blood that dripped on the flood and quickly cooled to blue and then to black. The ambient heat lit up the walls with a faint blue. And he could see as his twin's swords cut through Buffy's neck. She slid lifelessly off the blades a moment later. She would still be warm for some time, but Drizzt knew she was dead.

"Are you finally ready?" The tone was that musical sadist tone he had heard so often growing up. Beautiful and deadly.

"Yes."

Drizzt looked at his double for a long moment. Ever so slowly, he moved his hand back so it was disguised by his body heat.

"You know, years ago, I would have never even considered a place like this," evil Drizzt said, waving his arm about. "It's a city that seems designed for two worlds, one on the surface and one below. You wouldn't believe some of the places I found. Places of Power. For a mage like myself, it's an incredible city. After you're dead, it might be well worth it taking this place for all I can."

"Impressive delusions of grandeur there," Drizzt said, inching his hand back farther, making sure to keep it too close to his body to discern well.

"It's funny really, me, you, here," The Evil Drizzt commented. "Two sides of the same coin. A choice here and a choice there. You are a traitor to your people, trash of the lowest kind. Me? I'm a national treasure. In one generation I moved my House from the lowliest of noble houses to the Second House, absorbing the resources of all below it. I instigated wars between houses and Do'Urden would come in to clean up the pieces, taking over both at once. House Baenre actually praised Matron Malice for keeping the peace of Menzoberranzan."

"You come from a sick world," Drizzt said.

"In my world, I am the hero, the good guy," Evil Drizzt said with a smirk. He brought up his swords to attack. "In this world, you are the bad guy. So when are you going to actually try to kill me?"

Drizzt said nothing as he reached back, drawing the blaster he had been given by Riley in one motion. He trained the weapon on his doppelganger and fired all in one motion. The energy shot out, knocking the Drow out cold.

"Good, Bad, I'm the elf with the gun," Drizzt said. He heard cheering from behind him and realized they were not alone.

"Good pop-culturely usage," Buffy said giving him a thumbs up. There was enough light so she could see with her slayer sight and she had just arrived, having followed the voices. "It's better if you say it when they're still awake."

"Are you sure? I wasn't quite clear on the whole Pop-culture aspect and the quips. You and Xander tried to explain it to me, but it's not me," Drizzt said, automaticly responding to the voice as he looed down at the elf he just shot.

Then he did a double take: "Wait, Buffy? But you're dead!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are! You're body's right over there!"

"What? You killed me!"

"No I didn't! He did!"

"You can't just kill me and blame it on somebody else!"

"Fine, The other me did it."

"Well, that's a little better," Buffy admitted. She was clearly unnerved out by the body wearing her face. "It's really creepy seeing me dead. I'm going to have nightmares for months."

Drizzt glanced back down at the other Buffy. It was strange, but it looked like she hadn't cooled at all. "Buffy, you might not be dead."

"Of course I'm not dead," Buffy said, pointing to her face. "I'm right here."

"Not you-you, her-you," Drizzt explained, pointing to the body. "And he's still alive too."

"Waaait! How do I know you're the real you?"

"You complain about my hair clogging the shower drain," Drizzt said testily.

"Oh, okay," Buffy said as if that explained everything. "But your hair really does clog everything up."

"It does not! I clean it up regularly!" Drizzt rebutted. "In fact, I clean it more than you do!"

As the argument continued, the Initiative agents listening in at the exits to the tunnels had mixed reactions varying from annoyance to amusement. Eventually, Agents Riley, Forest and Graham showed up with a couple of stretchers. "Are you two going to keep this going all day, or are you just waiting for the doppelganger to wake up?"

"Oh, yeah, that," Drizzt glanced down at his evil twin, squinted, and shot him again.

"Don't do that! You might have killed him!"

"Nah, he was waking up anyway," Buffy said. "Wait a minute, where's my body?"

The three Initiative agents glanced at each other in surprise.

"You're wearing it?" asked Graham, a little confused.

"Not MY, my body, Her my body," Buffy explained.

"Kid, that makes no sense at all," Forest stated flatly.

"But I'm gone!"

"I think she means the body of her doppelganger," Drizzt said. "The body which is right behind her…and isn't cooling."

"Is that strange?" Riley asked as he cuffed Drizzt's double.

"For a dead body, yeah," Drizzt said.

"Well, she's not dead, but she's not in good shape," Forest said, checking Copy-Buffy over. "Looks like had some cuts on her neck. Deep, but they look like old scars."

"They aren't old, it happened like ten minutes ago," Buffy said. She shivered at the sight of her own body dead in a heap.

"She must have regenerated the skin before she died," Drizzt suggested with a shrug.

"Graham, take them out, Forest take the dopple-Drizzt or whatever we're calling him," Riley commanded. "Team 2, I want those in holding cells. Strip them, check for suicide pills and the like and get the…girl to medical. Buffy, Drizzt, let's go." He turned back to the other two. "Why don't we head back to the Initiative and see if we can sort this all out."

* * *

The meeting at the Initiative included everyone involved in the mess from General Hennessey to the ambassadors involved. The quick response from the dwarven cleric had saved Kellindil's life, but it was a close call. He was being kept in bed, but they had set up a phone conference so his family could join in from his bedside. Alternate Xander had been moved to an Initiative cell for the time being. Elven Giles had chosen to participate, but people were not trusting of him when considering the actions of the others.

"What is the current situation with the doubles not accounted for," Hennessey asked with a grim tone.

"We don't know exactly," Giles began. "We are unable to find Willow's doppelganger. She seems to have simply vanished from the face of the earth."

"And mine is still at large," Cordelia said proudly.

"Cordy, we don't even know if you've got one," Willow said.

"Of course I have one! I'm part of the gang!" the brunette protested. Xander, in a remarkable show of restraint held back the snide comment that popped into his head, choosing instead to simply rest a calming hand on her arm.

"Cordy, why don't we find out where she went after the meeting?" he said diplomatically. She appeared to be mollified by the suggestion.

"Getting back to business," the general prompted, hiding his amusement with a huff. "What about the others?"

"As you can see, my double is right here, and Xander's is currently in his cell," Giles explained. "Drizzt's doppelganger is sedated and locked away in a private cell in chains."

"That might not keep him. I recommend a guard make rounds every five minutes and constant visual observation," Drizzt said.

"Are you really that dangerous?" Riley asked. "He's unarmed, he's alone and he's being kept in bright light to block his vision."

"He is not me. I can only cast the most rudimentary spells," Drizzt explained. "He is an accomplished wizard, fighter and I suspect, thief. You have to be prepared for anything. Your people might be trained to deal with some demons, but my people are worse than most demons. He," Drizzt emphasized the word strongly, "has potential to be VERY dangerous."

Riley simply nodded and glanced at an agent. "Do it." The agent ran off to make sure everything was completed.

"What about Ms. Summers' copy?" inquired General Hennessey.

"Her regenerative abilities were able to stop the neck wound, but the damage was already done. Blood loss is not something someone can simply ignore and regeneration does not replace it, only time can. She is currently brain dead, but her body is in remarkably healthy condition," Dr. Chung explained. "She should have died even without the neck wound. She had suffered massive trauma repeatedly; realistically, she should not have been able to move like that. She was either ignoring the pain, or kept fighting in spite of it. The truth is, I do not know enough about the physiological aspects of Ms. Summers Slayer abilities to really determine her reactions."

"No matter, we shall still give her a proper burial," Giles said. "Now what should we do with the matter of Willow's double. We understand she attacked young woman in town. However…"

"However we don't know where she is or even how to contain her," Riley finished for him. "We need magical training."

"Yes, I am making that a priority," Giles said quietly.

"If you don't mind, would it be possible for me to get sent back to my world?" the Alternate Giles asked, raising his hand. "I have obligations that I must attend to."

"We shall see what we can do," Giles said. The other Giles bowed his head slightly in thanks. The Real Giles glanced around at the table. "Perhaps we should discuss the future of this facility while we are here."

Suggestions and possibilities were tossed around deep into the night.

* * *

That night, far to the south along the Delimbyr River, one werewolf and three vampires prepared to leave the temple of Selune. They had packed new supplies which included waterskins of blood enchanted with an anticoagulation spell. Why there was an anticoagulation spell, none of them knew, but they managed to pick up a few scrolls for later use. Just as they were about to leave, they were summoned into the main chamber by a lesser priestess.

"So, what's with this? I thought we were leaving," Spike said, rubbing a wound on his neck. He had attempted to get a midday snack, but that particular priestess had simply tapped him with her holy symbol. Hours later, the mark still burned.

"She would like to speak with you once more," said an Initiate. "This way please."

The four arrived in the central prayer room for the second time. The head priestess was sitting on a throne in the middle of the room. The entire priesthood stood together, flanking her on either side. Each one wore plate armor that seemed to sparkle with moonlight. Oz was impressed; Angel felt intimidated; Spike was pissed and Drusilla, well, Drusilla simply skipped and clapped her hands in giddiness.

"I am most displeased," the priest said from her throne. "William, despite my warning you attacked an initiate. For that you shall be punished. From now until I deem otherwise, my mark will burn you whenever you harm an innocent. It shall feel like the pain of a thousand suns on your skin."

"Like Hell, you bloody-Aaargh!" Spike clutched his neck and struggled to stand. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Uh, as much as Spike is an idiot, why are we here?" Angel asked, pointing to Oz, Drusilla and himself.

"I have seen your actions and chosen to act upon them," the woman said. "I know of what you seek. Both of you. Serve me and you shall be rewarded."

"What about Dru?" Angel glanced at the maddened vampire who seemed pumped up on fangirl drugs. "She's not the most stable of people."

"As an Oracle, Drusilla already serves me," the woman said. "How say you?"

"Cool," said Oz. "I'm in."

"I guess I will agree to it," Angel said, still unconvinced. The woman smiled and strode over to them. She suddenly seemed much taller than that morning. She seemed to shimmer. She pressed a hand to Oz's chest and a cool power seemed to flow into him. As she lifted her hand away, Oz suddenly realize he had been holding his breath. He sucked in a new chest full of air and released it, feeling clean as if he had bathed for the first time in months.

The woman moved to Angel. With a sad smile on her face, she did the same to the vampire with a soul. There was no cool power. Instead was a moonlit night with the agonies of everything he had ever done as Angelus: the torture, the murders, the mental corruptions, the twisted artistic nature of his demon; and called up the shame of everything he did as a human: the debauchery, the drunkenness, the disregard for his family, every sin flashed before him in an instant. Her hand felt like burning ice on his chest. She stepped away from them and smiled. "You have my blessing, go."

What happened next was one of the most remarkable sights anyof them had ever seen. The sky opened up through the ceiling clearing the clouds from the moon, bathing the room in pale moonlight that seemed to sparkle like silver on the armor of the priestesses. The four monsters looked to the moon and back at the clergy as the priestesses shed their mortal disguises and transformed into the Shards of the Moon, semidivine protectors of the Moon Maiden. Their wings snapped out as one and they took to the sky. Their wings sounded like thunder in the room that suddenly seemed too small. Selune looked upon them for a long moment before fading into a moonbeam and returned home.

Angel looked at Oz, then at Spike and then at Drusilla. "How long have you two known?" he asked, pointing to Oz and Dru.

"Since she started quoting Shakespeare," Oz replied.

"Since the Stars first whispered to me," was all Drusilla would say. She never took her eyes off the moon.

"And you didn't tell me?"

* * *

Still deep beneath the surface, another group was meeting in conference. Bregan D'aerthe scouts had reported another dead end.

"That is the third one in the area," Dinnin Do'Urden cursed. Jarlaxle looked on in amusement. "Why can't this infernal trek be over?"

"Brother, you should have more faith," his sister cautioned from behind him. The male quickly came to attention at the sound of her voice. "I was correct. This is the way, however, it was clear when I last communed. Someone has made a concerted effort to impede my progress. Have faith, Brother." With that, she turned and wandered back to the main camp. Dinnin spun, looking at his boss with complete confusion.

"Did you see that? She is insane!" the former second boy of House Do'Urden said in a hissed whisper. "Why are we still on this quest?"

"After what we saw? An Avatar destroyed Houses because House Baenre ignored her missive. Should I just go back and say 'oops, it was too hard and by the way, Lloth's favored priestess is a few scrolls short of a spellbook.' Is that what you're thinking?" the mercenary leader said with amusement. He snorted and sported a feral grin. "I'm sure you could march home and tell them for me. I'll stay here and wait for you to come back."

"Very funny," Dinnin muttered as he sat on a rock. He took his boss' offered flask and took a swig. "Any other priestess would have flayed the skin off my back and let me braid it myself after what I said. And what does she do? 'Have faith Brother' I have a real bad-"

"Do not finish that sentence," Jarlaxle cautioned. "There is no need to make this any worse."

"So what are we to do? Blast our way out? Hike on the surface? Neither sound like a good solution to me," Dinnin said as he passed the flask back. "Why do we need to find the little terror, anyway?"

"Lloth's will is Lloth's will," intoned the mercenary mysteriously.

* * *

Far above the city of Sunnydale, long after the sun had set, Dark Willow felt her counterpart fall asleep. She could feel everything, it was all connected.

Watching with magic, Dark Willow had seen Drizzt's evil twin kill Buffy's copy. She had seen everything. Magic was everywhere and so, in a way, Willow could be everywhere.

"Yee have a fine city, lass," said a man's voice from next to her. She glanced over to see a white-bearded man hovering next to her, his robes flapping in the strong wind. Puffing on his pipe, he grinned at her. "You aren't surprised to see me, are yee, lass?"

"No." The magic had let her know his approach.

"Not surprised, one of your power, and so young too," The older man said. "There has not been one like yerself in some time, or so I hear. The last one was long before my time."

"There will be another," Dark Willow said, her voice a little numb.

"No, lass. There already is another," Elminster commented, pointing at the town with his pipe. "The little one knows it not for now, but she shall soon."

Dark Willow said nothing.

"The Chosen." He said it like the words explained everything. "She Chose ye today. I'm here to explain what that means."

"I don't deserve it," Dark Willow said, the emotion strong in her voice.

"If that is how ye feel, then it is good She is the one who Chooses and not yerself," the old mage said with a chuckle.

"And Chosen means something quite different in Sunnydale," Dark Willow. "You should be more careful of your words. I know of at least one person living in that town who would take exception to them."

"Ah, the Slayer, yes, we've met, though I doubt she would remember," he said as if laughing at some private joke. "She has gods fighting over her already. I doubt she would approve."

"She never did like destiny or prophesy," Dark Willow said a slight smile tugging at her mouth.

"Few do, lass, few do."

"So, what does a Chosen do, exactly?"

"That's what I'm here to explain," Elminster said with a grin.

* * *

In another part of Sunnydale, a man in a suit walked into a crypt. He grinned as he bypassed the illusion disguising the entrance to the Master's hovel. Recognizing him, the guarding vampires hissed and quickly stepped out of the way. The man straightened his coat and walked boldly up to the cambion who had taken residence in the cave.

"Knock, knock, anyone home?" Richard Wilkins III asked. The Tiefling and sucubi hissed in surprise at the sound of a human's voice in the crypt.

"Interesting, how did you get past the guards?" the cambion asked, concerned about his own wellbeing.

"Bah! They have been around long enough to know who really runs this town," Wilkins said with a grin. He held out a hand to the fiend. "And that would be me: Richard Wilkins, Mayor of Sunnydale."

"Kaanyr Vhok, the Sceptered One, formerly leader of the Scoured Legion," the cambion said, taking the proffered hand. The mayor had a good grip, almost too good for a normal human.

"A pleasure to meet you," the Mayor said. "I have been making an effort to connect with all our new arrivals. You are a hard man to track down. Very nice misdirection spell on the cave here, but that doesn't really work on people who know it's here."

"I will have to keep that in mind," the cambion said, offering a glass of wine to the man. "What can I do for the illustrious Mayor of Sunnydale?"

"Actually, I wanted to offer you a job," the Mayor said with a grin. The fiend raised an intrigued eyebrow and saluted the mayor before taking a sip of his wine.

"Well, forgive me, if I had known this would be an interview, I would have worn something more appropriate," the cambion commented before motioning the man to sit down.

"I am truly impressed, hospitality is so rare these days," the Mayor said, the grin widening.


	29. Chapter 29

Team 14 did not like finding strange things on patrol. It was rather ironic, because that's what they had been doing for the past few months. It was late summer, what they had decided was early September, and it seemed like all the monsters were moving through Turnstone pass for some unknown reason. Already that fall they had captured thirty goblins trying to enter the city, 12 minotaurs attacking the outer homesteads and three small dragons attacking precious herds. Their success in this had the unfortunate side effect of a nickname given to them by the rest of the teams on regular patrol: The Pokemon Trainers. The members of Team 14 grimaced whenever someone made a reference to "Gotta Ketchum All!" Especially since the team leader was Lieutenant Jane Ketchum. She would just throw a look and smirk as she walked away.

However, the jibes conveyed a respect well earned. Team 14 had the best capture record of any of the teams and the lowest number of injuries. They had been so successful there was talk of promotion for the Lt. and a pay grade increase for the rest of the team. That didn't translate into much in the new Sunnydale economy, but anything was better than what they had. Specialist Parks was hoping to build a house next summer for her and her friend (a golden retriever/German Sheppard mix that was the size of a Newfoundland). The others had similar dreams of finally living off base. If all went well over the winter, their dreams might be realized. So when ten stone giants walked up on a brisk September morning, they were prepared and wisely refrained from shooting first and asking questions later.

"I am Haran-si, the mother of Gara. You will take me to Doctor Chung," the giantess said gruffly through the translation magic. She and the others were dressed in simple tunics made of some animal hair that seemed to be spun like wool. Glancing beyond them, the military team realized they had dragged a number of the Bantha looking creatures spotted on the first week Sunnydale made the transition.

"Yes, please wait here," Lt. Ketchum said as she reached for her radio. "This is Team 14 to Base."

"This is Base, need a pick up Team 14?"

"Not this time," She replied. "Stone Giants arrived looking to talk and trade from what I can see. They want to see Dr. Chung."

"No advanced warning?"

"They weren't spotted until five minutes ago," Lt. Ketchum answered. "Looks like magic to me. They appear non-hostile at the moment. Their leader claims to be the mother of Gara."

"I claim to be nothing. I AM the mother of Gara," the elder stone giant said, crossing her arms angrily. Lt. Ketchum winced, realizing the translation magic was still in effect.

"Correction, she is the mother of Gara," Lt. Ketchum said apologetically.

"Please have them wait there," the base replied. "The doctor and a diplomatic team will be out to meet you soon."

* * *

"Mr. Mayor? The diplomatic contingent from Cormyr has arrived and a group of Stone Giants from Ms. Gara's clan have arrived to the north," Mr. Finch announced, poking his head in during the meeting with the Mayor's new Head of Special Projects. The man was someone Finch had never met before, but the Deputy Mayor suspected the man was one of those "special" individuals the Mayor sometimes hired. This one was new and looked human, but Finch knew better. It wasn't a vampire, but they weren't the only creature that could mimic human form. There had been that mantis woman, the Slayer had taken care of her first year in town and others, so this one could be anything. He spoke with a strange accent, almost South African mixed with Russian, but his English was clear and well spoken, but he still made some mistakes with local idiomatic expressions suggesting he was freshly taught. A local perhaps? Finch kept his face smooth as he awaited the Mayor's response.

"Thank you Mr. Finch," The Mayor said with his usual smile, only this time genuine. Finch wanted to shiver every time he saw that smile. "I will just be a moment with Mr. Vhok and I will be in to meet them. Why don't you start the proceedings and I will take over in a moment. Perhaps Dr. Chung would like to meet the stone giants? She has had the most dealings with Gara."

"Of course sir," Finch replied perfunctorily. "I'll ask her. Is there anything else you would like to know?"

"No, Mr. Finch, that will be all," Wilkins said, waving the younger man away. Finch closed the door behind him and walked down to the conference room where the Cormyr diplomatic contingent awaited the Mayor's arrival. There were only five of them. The concept of a diplomat as an occupation was still new in this world. It was just one of many things the people of Sunnydale found strange. Most countries still considered diplomats little more than glorified hostages or a target when the news was bad. "Don't kill the messenger" had yet to catch on in the Forgotten Realms.

With this in mind, foreign diplomats were still surprised at the lack of fanfare or ostentatious display that Sunnydale shared for their leader. The leader of the budding nation neither wore a crown or other symbol of rank nor did he practice noblesse oblige or any other sort of feudal claptrap. He wore a simple suit that was cleaned frequently and showed no sign of his rank. Finch mimicked the style in his slightly darker gray suit and a conservative manner.

Before opening the door he made sure the translation amulet was around his neck. It was troublesome at times to have to remember to use it. He had to admit that he missed the days when only the Mayor dealt with people and creatures with strange languages. Thankfully these did not appear to be ready to kill him for a between meal snack.

He was greeted by the sight of humans in plate armor. Highly stylized plate armor that seemed like it belonged as a display not as a working model. Each wore a sword at their belt that seemed to signify some kind of order. All weapons were peace bonded with heavy wire. 'These must be the Purple Dragon Knights the locals spoke of,' Finch thought to himself.

"Greetings Gentlemen and Lady, I am Allan Finch, deputy Mayor of Sunnydale," the man said, holding his hand out to the foremost of the trio. The other two (obviously guards) stood on either side of the room with their visors down and a hand on their sword's pommel at all times. 'Poor fools. If someone wished them dead they would be.'

The man in charge made no move to take his hand. "We did not come here to speak to a vassal; we came to present ourselves to the Lord and Ruler of this land."

"Unfortunately, Mayor Wilkins," Finch stressed the word, but kept his tone as polite as possible, "is not available as he is in another meeting. I am fully capable of taking care of any issues you may have."

"I demand that you take us to your master lackey!" the man said, obviously used to being obeyed.

"He will be here when the meeting is out," Finch replied with a polite tone. "Until then, I will answer your questions and discussions."

Finch looked at the knight. Finch was not a tall man and the knight was over two meters tall. Mr. Finch had faced down worse for several years now; a sword wielding feudalist was nothing compared to a family of fyarl demons or even a perturbed vampire. He had a boss that sacrificed orcs and/or babies on a weekly basis, for crying out loud. As a result, Finch stared at him unblinking. They stared at each other for a long moment. The other knights seemed to tense as the contest of resolve bounced back and forth between the two men.

In a huff, the paladin kicked a chair and practically threw himself into it. His disgust was clear, but Allan Finch had won and everyone in the room knew it. Finch broke the silence by tapping his papers on the desk as he sat down at the head of the table. "Now, perhaps we can finally begin. We of Sunnydale wish to have a positive relationship with the local nations and we appreciate your coming all this way to meet with the Mayor."

"Why do you refer to your sovereign this way? A mayor is the leader of a small village, not a metropolis such as this," asked one of the younger paladins, one of the women. Finch noticed that the lead paladin flinched ever so slightly at the words. He was not pleased that the younger one had spoken out of turn. Finch glanced at the younger woman and noticed the different pattern to her breastplate. She must have been of a different order.

"Sunnydale is only a city by your standards," Finch said, looking at her directly, something he suspected was an insult to the man in charge. "By the standards of the world we left we are not much more than a village."

He watched their reaction. The head paladin tensed and squinted. He felt threatened by the news. The younger paladin was simply surprised as were the others. Forty Thousand was a huge number in this primitive-er-feudal world. Finch still had to catch himself on occasion. "Primitive" was a dirty word with the more politically correct members of the city, including some of the Mayor's cabinet. It was "local" not "native"; "feudal" not "primitive"; "from a different culture" not "bat shit crazy." Finch didn't use the last phrase ever, but that had little effect on other Sunnydalers.

"So you are from Cormyr, which is to the south east of us," Finch said, getting the discussion back on topic. It was dangerous when straying into other areas of conversation; some people did not react well to the information and some were a little too interested in weapons and nothing else. Sunnydale was not interested in their interest.

"We have heard of your nation from several sources and heard of your involvement with demons and orcs," the head paladin announced gruffly. "We need to ascertain your true involvement."

It was Finch's turn to be surprised.

"WHAT?" He was caught off guard by the accusation in the man's tone. Finch still managed to keep the discussion polite, even if he was getting slightly perturbed. "You come here, under the pretense of trade and good relations. Instead you throw accusations around?"

"I have not accused you of anything," the holy knight said in an accusatory tone. "Are you feeling defensive?"

"Aaand this meeting is over," Finch said, standing up. He walked quickly to the door and knocked twice. "The guards will escort you out and back to your lodgings. Please, next time, your government should send diplomats in good faith."

He walked out and four MPs walked in with their arms at the ready.

"My faith is strong! Is yours?" the head paladin yelled after the bureaucrat. "I have a Holy Duty! Tyr will punish the wicked and grind evil beneath his heel!"

Finch never looked back.

* * *

"So, Amy, how are you doing today," the doctor asked. He was a regular Doogie Houser, so baby faced Xander looked more mature. And he was cute.

She had been in the hospital for a week and then went back for check ups. A head wound was not something one could ignore. This doctor, she was told, was known as a Fellow, which was some kind doctor term for more than a doctor, but less than a specialist, or at least that was her opinion. And he was cute. Did she mention that he was cute?

"The head's all better," she said, tapping her head where the brick hit her. She was keeping up a good face, but she was still a little scared. Housecraft was still preaching against magic and witchcraft. A couple of his followers had been arrested, but the few who assaulted her had yet to be found. Housecraft himself kept clear of the law, claiming that he could not be responsible for the actions of his congregation. He was charming, he was charismatic and he was powerful. They were the conservatives, mostly fundamentalists and born-again Christians. The Catholics stayed out of the discussion surprisingly. Amy suspected that the Father was a good man and knew what went on in the town before it was sent to this new world. Buffy got her holy water there, after all.

The young doctor poked and prodded her head again. Then he started checking her neck. "Any neck pain?"

"No, just like last week," she said with a grin. He really was looking for something to write his paper on and this was not working for him.

"So I guess you're free to go," he said it like the world was ending.

Amy got up, gave her information to the desk and walked into the hall, almost running into Larry who was finally walking on his own after months of physical therapy. "Larry! What are you doing here? Isn't PT on the third floor?"

"I heard you were here. Thought I'd see how you were doing," he said as he slowly walked beside her. She slowed down to match him. He seemed to be mostly healed, but the recovery time had given his muscle mass a hit. The former football player resembled a potato with tooth picks for legs. It was a funny concept.

"'How are you?' 'Are you feeling better?' That seems like all I hear from people these days," she said, exasperated, throwing her arms up in the air. "I'm fine!"

"Yeah, you take one axe to the kidney and people think you can't even feed yourself," he replied with a knowing smirk. "Mom's been like that since I got out of the hospital. Now I can hold a desk job and she wants me to stay at home."

"I wish my mom cared about me that way," Amy said with a sad sigh. "But my dad is here now, so I'm feeling better about it."

"What happened to her? My mom said she just vanished sophomore year," Larry said as they walked to the elevator.

"Yeah, well, mother turns out to be an evil witch, mom pulls a body switching routine and mom tries to live my life for me because I was 'wasting' it on science and good books," the budding witch answers, trying to put light to the situation, "And then Willow and her friends save me. Mom tried to kill them with a spell and Buffy reflected it back at her."

"You know, after Halloween, I had an idea about what went on around here, but I never knew it was this bad until the Shift," Larry said, poking the button to go down.

"I knew. My Dad knew. Willow, Buffy and Xander knew. Hell, the school librarian what's-his-name knew," Amy said. "And we didn't say anything. We just kept quiet so people wouldn't think we were crazy." She touched her head where the brick hit her. "To a degree, we were right. People weren't ready for this."

"I don't care what people think anymore," Larry said. "I'm gay. I can admit it now. The same group who hates you hates me too."

"You still gonna play football?"

"Who is there to play against?" Larry said. "Even if they let me back on the team, there isn't a point of the team unless we can get people to play against."

"Same with the cheerleaders I guess," Amy grinned. Larry grinned back. "So, has the press been harassing you?"

"Yeah, it's all 'Buffy, Buffy, Buffy' I barely know the girl," Larry admitted. "You?"

"Same," Amy said. "Although they were scared off by Ms. Summers' threats."

"We should all write a tell-all book when we graduate?"

"Really?"

"Naw, no one would buy it."

"It's not like book sales are going to be high. Everything we've got left over are being saved and copied," Amy said. "Its only a matter of time before we start publishing our own books."

"You going to write one?"

"Naw. I'm gonna be a witch, but not like Mom," Amy said. The doors opened and a few others walked in. "How about you? What are you going to be when you grow up?"

"I'm thinking about military," Larry said. "Dad was Navy, but I don't think that's the way I'm going to go; especially since we don't have a coast. I've got some know how from last Halloween that might help. I never thought pirate memories would help. I can tie a knot like you wouldn't believe and I think I could fire a cannon. I've been building flintlocks in my spare time. Useless skill normally, but here? You never know what we might need."

"What about don't-ask-don't-tell?"

"They won't ask and I won't tell. Eventually that kind of thing has to change," Larry said. "Especially with such a small population like ours."

"Maybe the mayor could do something about that?"

* * *

"So, Allan, how did the meeting go?" Richard Wilkins was back behind his desk, cleaning his hands.

"It didn't. They weren't looking for trade, they were looking for a holy war," Finch said. "The head knight was a follower of Tyr. These are the files we could find on the deity. It gives further evidence of connection between here and Earth. On Earth, Tyr was the Norse god of valor and law. Legend has it, he kept his hand in Fenris' mouth as a sign of good faith. When the other Norse gods broke their promise, the wolf god bit off Tyr's hand. He was used when invoking oaths. We don't know the exact correlation here, but he seems to have a similar presence. He is reported to be part of something called the Triad, three gods who keep similar beliefs. They directly oppose the Dead Three, another three deities of bones, death and undeath."

"So you didn't even placate him?" The mayor looked concerned.

"Sir, I'm not here to placate people on a witch hunt," Finch replied honestly. "He was clearly not interested in trade. He was demanding, he was rude and he called me a lackey."

"Hurt your pride did he?"

"Yes, he did."

"Well, gosh darn it, I can't have that happen," The mayor said with a brilliant smile. "I guess I'll have to talk to them."

"I really think they didn't understand that I am the next in line," admitted Finch. "I'm not your son, so they assumed I was a vassal of some kind."

"We'll have to correct that assumption," said the grinning politician. "Where are they now?"

"I had the guards take them back to the mansion," Finch said. "They have been causing problems with the other ambassadors. The ambassadors from both Zhentil Keep and Citadel Adbar are complaining about harassment from the Cormyr contingent."

"Gee wiz! Now we can't have that! We're getting important metals and food from them," he said, frowning slightly. "I'm headed to the Mansion, why don't you go see what Walsh has for me. She keeps talking to me about some guy named Mears. Tell me what you find out."

"I'll do that, sir," Finch said. He hesitated a moment before continuing. "But sir, how are you planning on dealing with the Cormyr ambassador?"

"I'll just have to be stern with him and inform him that kind of behavior is not acceptable," Wilkins said, putting his overcoat back on. "We'll meet up at three to talk things over. We still need to deal with the Housecraft situation."

"I have some ideas about that," Finch replied. Richard Wilkins III nodded in agreement.

"At three then."

* * *

Finch walked rather than drove or road over to the University. From what Walsh's reports said, this kid was an engineering genius. His friends had some talent for magic as well. Warren was supposed to be combining magic and technology in ways most other people didn't think of. He called it magitech or something stupid like that. Basically, they used little magics to create an effect that mimicked something of technology or improved technology by using magic. He had already developed a constantly renewing battery by creating a magical electric pulse around a battery shaped piece of metal. The charge was strong enough to run radios or something similar, but weren't powerful enough to charge something like an Initiative Blaster. That would take more power than a magical battery could create, but that didn't mean they were giving up. Especially if the Blaster worked.

Finch arrived at the engineering building (a converted warehouse that was a street over from the campus proper) just as a gout of flame flew out the windows. People in white lab coats ran around with pails of water and fire extinguishers. A team of four people (who all looked like teenagers) came running out of the building holding a strange contraption.

"Damnit Jonathan! How'd you screw up again?" a taller dark haired teen yelled at a shorter boy.

"Hey! This isn't my fault, Warren! It was fine with the magical designs I already put in place. Who was it who said we needed a bigger crystal? Hmmm…?" the shorter on, Jonathan said, pointing his finger right in the taller man's face. "Oh yeah, that was Andrew!" Three heads turned towards the medium blond kid.

"Tucker! Help me! Don't let them blame me for this! Gygax warns that-"

"Oh, god Andrew," the other three moaned.

"No more about the Holy Gygax thing. It's just a goddamn game," Warren said. "If you're just going to mess around, get out of the way. This is the third time you've caused a fire in the lab."

"HEY! You would have never figured out how to summon and control that fire demon for the laser if it hadn't been for me," Andrew said. "We wouldn't be half as far if I hadn't had him on retainer!"

"You? Hell, Tucker could have done that in half the time it took you, right Tucker?"

"I'm staying out of this and going back to my job. At least there all I need to deal with there is Cordelia," said the second blond man who started running off. "Oh, hi Mr. Finch."

Finch still wasn't sure how to deal with everyone in town knowing him by face. He waved to the young man and turned back to the Trio. "So you are Warren, Jonathan and Andrew, nice to meet you." He shook their hands one by one. "Is Dr. Walsh around? She wanted to have someone look over what you have accomplished."

"She's on the other side working on combining my android tech with something called a Moloch," Warren said. "We'll give you a quick tour."

They started walking through the corrugated metal building. Right off he could see what looked like a hole melted through several metal walls. "What did that?"

"Oh, that was our latest attempt at building laser weapons that someone had to screw up again," as Jonathan finished the sentence he turned to glare at Andrew, who refused to acknowledge him. "Someone changed the focusing crystal so we couldn't adjust the blade length."

"You're building laser weapons? Is this some kind of joke?" Finch was starting to think someone was just messing with him.

"Yeah," Warren affirmed. "The reason we didn't have them on earth was an issue of energy usage and cost. Using the Initiative tazer/blaster thingies, I had a starting point. After that it's just a matter of finding a power source reasonable for our current technology. I couldn't find one, so I tried making one with magic."

"You tried? How about I came up with the idea, you stole it and then had me make it?" Jonathan said indignantly. Having to deal with his friends on a professional level had forced the kid to grow a spine. That and years of playing fighters in D&D.

"Oh, shut up about that Jono," Warren said, rolling his eyes.

"So it worked, you made a laser?" Finch asked, perhaps a little too eagerly. He might be a Deputy Mayor now, but he was a sci-fi fan growing up. The Trio shared some squeamish looks between each other.

"…Not really…"

"They made an uncontrolled stream of concentrated energy that should act like a laser, but extra emphasis on the uncontrolled part," Dr. Walsh said, shaking the dust and ash off her lab coat from the recent explosion…er…test. "You three go back to cleaning up and then rebuild what you destroyed. Hello, Mr. Finch."

"Hello, Dr. Walsh," he said, extending his hand. "What was it you wanted to show me?"

"As I said in my report, we have had some success with a couple of our new designs," she pulled off her white gloves as they walked and tossed them in a bin of dirty cloths. "You heard of our efforts in building an air pressure engine, we seem to have succeeded in creating one that works in all our present trials."

"Oh, so you could start converting cars to the new system?"

"That would be an impractical and useless endeavor," she replied sternly. "We could use some of the metal, but today's cars have far too much mass to utilize our new technology properly. What we need is Aluminum and in great quantities if we want to make this conversion. It will be much easier to smelt down the older vehicles and replace them with the new cars. This requires manufacturing, which we don't have, even considering the strides we have made so far."

"What about military vehicles? Don't they have to be heavy?" Finch asked, jotting down notes as he walked.

"We might have a solution to that in a while," Walsh said. Finch could tell she was still displeased with being forced to report to someone higher. It was different before. If your superiors were on the other side of the continent, you did not need to worry about their constant approval. Things were different here. Finch forced himself to listen to her suggestions. "Aluminum is stronger per pound than steel; this is of course because of its lower density. The locals seem to refer to it as 'mithril' like the fictional metal in the Tolkien mythos. Unlike earth, however, it seems to occur naturally in veins like silver and gold. Citadel Adbar has a whole industry dedicated towards mining it. If we trade some of our metallurgy techniques with them, we might be able to get them to manufacture more."

"I don't understand? They are already better miners than we are, with the added benefit of the train they have doubled production already," Finch said curious.

"On earth, Aluminum occurs almost exclusively in molecules with other elements; it stands to reason that similar instances could have occurred here. Here they mine it and might well be missing the greater amount of ore due to a simply lack of chemical understanding. Their refuse piles could have a wealth of minerals they have simply not been looking for," Walsh said like explained everything.

"I could certainly bring it up at the town meeting this weekend," Finch said. People were displeased with the current situation with the mayor and near fascist society. The bi-weekly Town Meeting was developed to assuage some of that displeasure.

"That could work," Walsh said. "I have also heard rumors of some advanced chemistry in certain subsections of the locals' society. If we could discover this we might be able to find similar sources for what we are looking for. They might well use the same chemicals we need, but simply refer to them with a different name."

"I'll ask the ambassadors about it," he said, jotting down a note to remind himself. "Is there anything else?"

"Just the specs on the new car," Walsh said. "We have some other substances we will need soon. Rubber is one of them, and we need it sooner rather than later. We can use old tires from the junk yards for a while, but eventually we will need a new source."

"What about house plants?"

"Ah, yes, Ficus elastica," she said. "We simply won't have enough mature trees in a greenhouse complex by the time we need it. It comes down to the fact that we will not be able to produce enough on our own for what we will need. There is also the added problem of importation because we are so far inland. We have the river, but there are too many places where locks would be needed to get it moved up. Until SunnyRail is finished connecting the North we won't have access to what we need."

"What about outsourcing?"

"What do you mean?"

"We don't produce the rubber ourselves, we give the plants to other countries nearby to grow it," Finch suggested.

"Would not work. Ficus elastica is a tropical plant naturally," Walsh said, shaking her head, "and requires the fig wasp to spread naturally. We can't risk sending plants out to people who don't know how to grow from cuttings."

"What about other plants that produce rubber?"

"There are a few that live in this climate. Dandelions and lettuce both have latex, but that would be in competition of our food supply," Walsh said.

"You can eat dandelions?"

"Never mind. The fact remains that we can't continue living with the same lifestyles now," Walsh said. "We use rubber in everything we do from children's spoons to surgical equipment to clothing to tires. Eventually we will need more unless we drastically change our lifestyles."

"People are not going to be pleased with fewer options or more changes," Finch said, flinching at the memories of the last time he had to tell people they ran out of something.

"We have to change or we will die," Walsh said. "All creatures adapt to survive. Those that do not adapt enough go extinct."

"I don't like that option," Finch said firmly.

"Nor do I," Walsh said, "which is why I am making a team to go investigate local plant life to find substitutions for our needs. If we can find replacements in nature, we could selectively breed them for our needs."

"Have someone send over the reports to City Hall, we'll send out a team as their protection," Finch said. "Exploration is just as important as everything else."

They talked for a while more about the logistics of their needs before shaking hands again and going on their separate ways. Finch looked at his schedule again and sighed. Borrowing one of the communal bicycles from a rack, he started off towards the Base.

* * *

"Mr. Finch, a pleasure," General Hennessey said, reaching out with his huge hand.

"Likewise General," Finch replied, suppressing the wince from the man's strength. "Shall we be off?"

"Yes, and I hope this works well," Hennessey said. At the council meetings with the mayor, the general had voiced his criticisms of this choice, but it had gotten to the point where this was the only choice anyone moral would entertain. "The orcs have been restless lately."

"From what the anthropologists tell me, this is from some imbalance in their society due to the male/female ratio," Finch said. "They are used to having more females than males, but not this severely. There is a clear division of labor between the two groups, with the males going out to raid and hunt for food and supplies with the females gathering foods, while guarding and controlling the local populace at home. Only a few of them have been allowed into the settlement so we don't have a real ethnography about it."

"What about Mr. Harris' involvement?"

"You are referring to the copy that came out this summer?"

"Yes, he's been splitting his time between the two orc groups with the village and the island prison doing 'humanitarian aid'," the general explained.

"He might actually help what we are trying to do," Finch said. "We need food. They need food. The best solution is to get them to raise it for us."

"Turning warriors into farmers has never been very successful in the past," the general cautioned. "This group is very disorganized. They don't even have the tactics for 'stand in a line and shoot' yet. They really are like cavemen. If they didn't steal their weapons they would be using flint."

"I don't intend to turn warriors into farmers, I intend to turn them into warrior-farmers," Finch said. "We could use the additional manpower in guarding the perimeter as well."

"Don't I know it. We just had a group of giants show up to the perimeter and we never knew about it until they walked directly to a team," Hennessey said, clearly displeased by the news. "We should get going."

The entourage was made up of five humvees that rumbled down the gravel road they had built that summer leading to the orc settlement. Truth be told, it was barely a settlement. There were no permanent structures; the forest was blown down so there was no natural protection from the elements; and there was a distinct lack of game in the area. The orcs were subsisting on what Sunnydale was feeding them. If the psych profile was correct, the remainder would be more likely to attack and take rather than grow their own simply because of their culture. He had to convince them that it was in their best interest to cooperate with the city.

As they arrived at the village, the local leader, a shaman of their god Ilneval of strategies, was standing on the outskirts to greet them. He was an old warrior with a hunched back and countless scars, but not nearly as many as followers of Grumsh or Bahgtru. He had become the default negotiator between the two peoples. He was known to be cunning and dangerous, especially because of his age. With all other male leaders captured or dead he was the one the orcs turned to for better or worse.

"Have you brought food?" the shaman asked, as he usually did. "It had better not contain the white poison."

It was discovered early on that orcs are very, _very _allergic to lactose. Subsequent aid packages were carefully checked to make sure there weren't any milk products in the food.

"No white poison," assured Finch.

"Your people are terrifying indeed to consume that," the shaman said, sitting down at the table set up for discussions.

"We drink it for breakfast," Finch said with a toothless grin. Bare teeth were seen as a challenge in orcish society. Anthropologists suggested it was a trait similar to chimp interaction. However, bragging about drinking poison and living was seen as a show of strength, something well respected in the tribe.

"We have a deal we would like to make," Allan Finch said after they had eaten. "We want to join our strength together."

"Why would we do this? We are the children of Grumsh! We are strong!" this he said in a roar that was echoed by the crowd that grew behind him. Showing your backing was also and important show of strength. Your crowd represented your strength because only those with strength deserved to be followed. Finch just had ten soldiers and General Hennessey behind him with a Lt. Both were in dress blues showing their medals.

In their early interactions, the orcs had wondered about the gems place on soldier's chests. When explained they represented conquests, honors and battles the orcs began dressing up in their equivalent of Sunday best: fancy hides, wearing golden torcs, stolen jewels and the like. The final effect was like going to a Mr. T look-alike contest.

"Together we can be stronger than we are apart," Finch said. He saw the glimmer of intelligence behind the orc's eyes. Half of his actions were posturing to keep the support of the tribe; the other half was cold calculation. Unlike many of the younger orcs, this orc knew he was at a disadvantage

"We have seen the strength of your women," by this he meant Buffy. Though they wouldn't admit it, the orc tribe was terrified by her. One girl, a good foot and a half shorter than the average orc, had killed fifty of them by herself. "But we have yet to see the strength of your men."

"You have seen our strength," Finch said. "You see it every day as we build, as we work. Our strength together could be so much more."

"What would you have us do? Would we become slaves? NO!" There was a great roar at this. Orcs stamped their feet and chanted Grumsh's name.

"I would have us be strong together! Together we could be more than we are apart!" Finch said, his voice rising in volume. He was not good at public speaking and he had been forced to do that a lot in his time as Deputy Mayor. He just hoped that the lines he memorized would have the desired effect. "Does a hilt alone smite your enemies? No! Can you kill with just a blade? Yes, but you cut yourself just as much. You must have hilt and blade to make a sword. Apart they are useless; together they are strength!"

"You would have us become the Foe Smiter itself?" the shaman asked in a loud tone. There was something like a suggestion in that statement. It implied he should agree. God, he wished he knew more about their culture. For all he knew "foe smiter" could be a religious anathema.

"Yes, with the hilt we as the hilt and you as the blade, together we can become the Foe Smiter," Finch said through gritted teeth. The orc shaman looked at him for a long silent moment. Suddenly he sprang from his chair and turned to face the tribe.

"How say you? Will we stay here? Or shall we bind our blade to their hilt? Shall we become the Foe Smiter?" The tribe was quiet at first, but a low chant sprang up and started spreading through the collected orcs. Soon, Finch could make out the word: Ilneval, the shaman's patron god. Finch had won.

The Deputy Mayor turned to look at General Hennessey. "They're all yours James."


	30. Chapter 30

"Vierna, please think of what you are doing," Dinin said pleading. "We know nothing of this area except that this is where the Zin-Carla died; we could be walking into a trap." He glanced over at his boss who wisely stayed out of the conversation. The Priestess had been…nice recently, but Jarlaxle was not willing to hit the gambler's run at this juncture.

"Don't be silly, brother," the mad priestess said. "Lloth will protect us from the mind flayer's city."

She stepped out into the cavern where the Zin-Carla had fallen. The remains were cleaned up after years in the underdark, but there were still the remains of the mind flayer community with the buildings that housed the fighting pits and the elder brain. Mind flayers were an abomination. They were humanoid in basic silhouette, but the head was replaced with something resembling a squid's tentacles and maw. Their favorite food was the fresh brains of intelligent beings. They savored them like fine wine. If there were any of the aberrations here now, they were well hidden.

"Sir! Something in the dome," said a scout in the sign language of the drow. Everyone was tense and the news that the telepathic, brain eating monsters might still be nearby was something that would give even a drow pause.

"You, you, and you, investigate," replied the mercenary leader in the same hand sign. The three scouts headed up towards the dome. A few minutes after they entered, the keen drow ears heard the telltale sounds of hand crossbows firing and three bodies falling. Minutes later they heard the same happen again and again a few minutes after that. Nearly fifteen minutes later, the trio was spotted moving towards the fighting pits. One of them motioned as they moved. "Building clear, no casualties, but captives and supplies." Jarlaxle nodded to them and had the rest of the people move in to the dome.

Inside they found a regular treasure trove of items. He ordered anything of value taken. There was a market for mind flayer architecture, something he could never understand, but money was money. As they moved, they stripped the building of all statues, movable architecture and other items of worth. The main hallway was lined with humanoid statues poised in mockeries of pleasure. These statues bore no marks of a sculpture's chisel and held imperfections that mimicked living flesh all too well. From the looks of things, one of the mind flayers had managed to get a medusa as a thrall and telepathically forced the other thralls to look at her. There was a market for that as well. Everything was loaded into bags of holding until they were nearly bursting. Soon they found the subdued occupants of the dome. They appeared to be a group of ex-slaves, judging by the collars and tattered clothes. They were at least five races represented, including seven drow. At closer inspection, the former slaves are quite young, possibly raised as slaves or caught when very young.

"Bring them with us," commanded Vierna, her arms crossed over her chest. Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow at the priestess, but did what she said. The unconscious people were tied up and propped against the walls as the mercenaries searched the rest of the dome. They eventually came to the central room where the elder brain once lived. Nothing of great note remained now, but it appeared that the freed slaves had chosen to eat the remainders rather than starve. Interesting. Soon the other scouts returned from the other building. Jarlaxle ordered them to report.

"The other building is filled with former slaves and their livestock," was the sharp reply. "Only a few drow. Most of them appear to be a mix of upper dark creatures built for strength. They are living in the former slave quarters and raise rothe and other heard animals on the surrounding cliffs. The lake is rich with fish and plenty of fungi cling to the walls. They have done well to survive this long. But sir?"

"Go on."

"They are living together," reported the scout. He spoke that last word like the worst kind of curse. His innocence amused Jarlaxle. Ah, to be so young and stupid again.

"Of course they do," Dinin said. "They were raised to serve the mind flayers. They don't know how the real world works."

'And again young Dinin surprises me,' thought Jarlaxle. 'I will have to watch him more closely. Of course he still doesn't have it all right. Give him time.' Clearing his throat he spoke. "Bring them. Priestess Vierna wants them."

The scouts saluted before leading the raiding team to the other building. The mercenary leader turned to the priestess. "What are you going to do with the slaves?"

"I am taking them with us," she said. "Lloth tells me they will be useful in rebuilding House Do'Urden."

"If you are going to rebuild, why not use this cavern here? It has everything one would need to support a large number of creatures," the lost son of House Baenre asked.

"This would indeed be a good place, however I am told that I must find my younger brother before House Do'Urden can rise from its ashes," the priestess replied. In the past few weeks things had definitely changed for the priestess. Her insanity was increasingly more evident and she had no fear of anyone overhearing. She spoke openly of subjects that are under the strictest taboo and openly referred to Dinin and Drizzt as her brothers as opposed to the traditionally derisive "male." She was loosing her grip on sanity, or perhaps not. She seemed in tune with something beyond the norm. If she was divinely inspired as she claimed, he could possibly steal some of that inspiration for himself. Menzoberranzan is a nice place, but it's not the only place.

"Then you would not mind if I kept this for myself, would you?" Jarlaxle wondered if he was asking a bit too much, but tried anyway.

"Fine, I give it to you, but the people and animals belong to me," She replied dismissively. From behind her back, the mercenary leader grinned.

* * *

After driving back up to the city, Finch reviewed his itinerary. Next was dealing with the contingent of stone giants from the Graystone Clan. Hopefully no one had offended them by sending Dr. Chung to meet them. She was the most knowledgeable about the group.

The group had been set up in the same airplane hanger where Gara had made her recovery. The military vehicle drove him directly to the airport where he got out and quickly walked to the hanger. He discovered the main entrance covered by a large furry creature that looked like a Bantha from Star Wars.

"Excuse me, I am Allan Finch, the Deputy Mayor for the city of Sunnydale, could someone please move the animal out of the door way?" The creature squirmed and snorted, butting its head against his shoulder, but the creature didn't move. "Hello? Is anyone in there?"

Ahem! Finch turned around to see Amelia Chung standing behind him. "Mr. Finch, the door is on the other side."

"Oh, sorry," Finch quickly scurried across to the other entrance. Inside were the stone giants of the Graystone clan. They had arranged themselves in a semicircle on one end with the oldest woman in the middle. It seemed to him that it was a social context with the elders in the middle and the younger apprentices. "Hello, my name is Allan Finch, the Deputy Mayor for the city of Sunnydale and I welcome you to our city."

"For ourselves, we are not so pleased, Allan Finch," intoned the elderly giant in the middle. "Your people have killed our children and captured three."

"To be honest ma'am, your people attacked first," Finch said, trying to stay diplomatic. Unlike the knights from Cormyr, these people had legitimate grievances. "Our people were already in combat with orcs. We had no way to know that you were not with them. I am sorry for your loss, but I feel the actions of those involved were accurate to the times."

"Our children were simply trying to scare the orcs off," one of the others snarled, the pain evident in his voice even through the magic of the amulet.

"Our people feel that is not the case. In fact one of our citizens received a broken leg from one of your children's flying boulders," Finch said firmly. Drizzt might not have been a citizen at the time, but that was easily ignored. "We are willing to acknowledge that the entire situation arose due to a misunderstanding, but we will not take the blame."

"You're people killed my son! Barely more than a child and you cut him down!" said a middle-aged giantess. "I demand the heads of those responsible."

"I have doubts that Buffy Summers would allow you to take her head without a fight," Finch said. "She is only seventeen and has no desire to die again anytime soon, I can assure you. Also, I should warn you that any attempt at attacking the city by force to retrieve her head will be met with deadly force and will be viewed as an act of war."

The eldest giant, a tall matronly woman and the first to speak, rested a calm hand on the younger giantess' shoulder. "Shurei, hide your grief." She turned to Finch, who was still standing. "Sit, Mr. Finch. We must talk at length."

"I agree, recriminations can wait. There are many issues which need to be discussed before we can really come to a meeting of the minds," Finch said, sitting down on a cushion bigger than he was. "Allow me to tell you the circumstances of our arrival in the Realms…"

The tale was long and the giants listened for the most part. Finch noticed as he told their tale, that they seemed to have supreme patience in all things save for family. When he finished, the Elder started telling the story of their Clan, from the great giant nation until the dragons destroyed it, until the wandering tribes and on and on. They seemed to record every minute detail into the oral history. Finch secretly hoped none of them noticed him nodding off ever so slightly. He was just resting his eyes…really.

"And your people," The elder giant said suddenly. Finch covered the fact that he had not been paying attention and nodded. "Where have your people come from?"

"We don't memorize our history like you do. We copy it down," Finch said. "We learn some of it in school, but there is too much for us to remember clearly all at once."

He went on to summarize human life on earth and he talked a little about dinosaurs and a few other things he remembered. Admittedly, history was not his strong suit. After a much shorter interval than the giants, he finished his story. The giants paused, obviously waiting for him to say something else. He was not sure what else there was to say.

"So you are a very young people," surmised the elder giant. She crossed her arms and looked down at him.

"Perhaps as a nation, but we have history going back thousands of years," he said. "Every year scientists find out we are older than we thought, going back tens of thousands of years. We study the past because we don't remember it. We write it down so we can access it."

"And what of these 'scientists' what training do they go through?"

"It really depends on the field. Generally it's grade school, a BA and a masters, but some go on longer than that," Finch said with a shrug. "It's at least 20 years of school, eight of which is specialization."

"And what have these scientists given you?" she asked next. Her seemingly random questions were starting to confuse the deputy mayor.

"Almost everything we have," he said. "Someone works on something with medicine; someone else works as an engineer; another does something completely different. Add everything together over years and we get what we have today: civilization."

"And how has that benefited your people," she inquired, continuing her ambiguous line of questioning.

"Um…we have protection, we have transportation, we have hospitals, we have laws, a whole bunch of things," Finch said. "Infant death has decreased. We stamp out disease. We live longer. We live richer lives. I don't know what else to say about that." He glanced around at them for a moment and sighed. "Look, I'm not a diplomat. I'm not good at this kind of thing. I am an organizer, bureaucrat. I plan the Mayor's day. I run errands. I try to make red tape look more like a pathway and less like an impenetrable web. If you have a particular goal you look to achieve, I can put you in contact with the people who can help you. So I am asking you, please, be clear about what you are looking to achieve here."

The giants looked down on him for one long moment. And then they started to laugh. A full bodied laugh at the befuddled little human. After a long moment, the elder speaks again. "Though you speak in a rough manner, we can acknowledge your distress. For us, it is best to feel out responses without asking the direct question. It is how we teach, and how we deliberate. You, obviously, do not speak in the same manner. If we laugh, it is because you speak as would one of our own children in their youth."

"Well, forgive me for being younger than people who live 800 years or more," he muttered in a sarcastic tone. In a more reasonable tone, he spoke up again. "So what are you looking for?"

"We still harbor pain and anguish for the lives lost. Their potential was as great as their tempers," The elder said firmly. "They were the hope for the next generation. It was believed that they would temper their impetuous natures and they would become druids and elders like us. Now that will never be. What we ask of you is this: bring us a new hope. Educate our young in your ways. Agree to this, and we can speak of other things such as commerce and allies."

"I think that can be arranged," he agreed. He glanced at the clock and noticed the time. "I have to go to my next meeting. If you would wait until tomorrow, I can have you meet with our director of education. She will know how to fit your children into our schools. After that we can discuss matters of trade."

He got up to leave and turned around. "I'm sorry about your children. It is hard enough loosing children here, but not knowing what happened to them must really hurt. It's just…When people attack Sunnydale, Sunnydale strikes back." He nodded to them, and they nodded in return. Glancing at his watch, he scampered out the door and to the waiting carriage. He would deal with the return of the giants tomorrow. Now he had a meeting of a different sort.

* * *

"Mr. Finch," said the woman across from him. She was tall, blonde haired and blue eyed. Kjesti Bjornsen was a tall formidable woman who had come to the forefront of the Norwegian faction. A native of Lofoten in Nordlands county, she was as tough as the mountains and as hard to pin down as the ocean. Her family was rather rich by the considerations of Norwegian culture and her father's face was frequently posted in the newspaper as the richest man on the island, something that was supposed to be shameful in Norwegian society. But being exposed to fishing negotiations and such from a young age had turned the woman into a dangerous opponent. "You are late."

He looked at the faction leaders in front of him. They were about as diverse as they could get. Each minority faction (save the orcs) were represented in the little forum he had put together. There had been allegations of racism and other prejudice against the non-American community and Finch wanted to get everyone on the same page. This was a most serious issue, because it showed a growing trend that could easily become a civil war if things continued.

Kurikawa Tamaji, a former Japanese salary man, had become the leader of the Japanese tourists who had come along with Sunnydale's long distance trip. He had just managed to get enough pay to take his family on an overseas cruise, but he was by no means rich. Little did he know, but his wife was almost ready for a divorce considering how much he had ignored her in favor of work. If they had not been transported, it might well have happened. Instead they were doing well, all things considered.

Then Finch glanced at the Taiwanese representative. She was not who he would have suspected. A half-Japanese/half-Chinese woman born during the Japanese occupation of the island prior to WWII, she was a mother of four, grandmother of twelve, a lower middle class worker and tough as nails. Finch had no idea how she was chosen to represent the Taiwanese faction, but he suspected he knew why. The woman had a spine like a steel rail and a stare that could practically burn holes through concrete.

The PRC representative was not the same kind of person. A former illegal alien, he was underfed, poorly clothed and weakened by his voyage, but had done better after receiving treatment and food. He had been working in construction for months now and had built up an impressive amount of muscle on his small frame. He still had a bit of a mousy feel to him. Frankly, Allan Finch was surprised it was not one of the boat captains he was facing. Truth be told, Finch didn't even remember the man's name name. His political leanings and skills were as unknown as his name. The lack of knowledge about the situation made Finch nervous.

Of all the representatives, Jesus Juan Rodriguez, was the only Sunnydale "native" having lived in Sunnydale before the Shift. The Hispanic leader was a man from the mean streets of LA. A former gang member, he had crossed the wrong person, was caught by the feds and put into witness protection. Unfortunately, the place they put him was Sunnydale. After a few close calls, he knew exactly what the night life of the small town was like. He was as tough as the tattoos suggested, but he was a powerful speaker and had boatloads of charisma. And he was not stupid. The man's mind was sharp as a tack and his distance education grades spoke well for his capabilities. He was nearly done with a prelaw distance learning degree, and that had helped him go far in the post-Shift world. Since the Shift, he had cleaned up his act, putting on a suit and combing his hair back, he looked more like a cutthroat businessman than a former gang member. He had managed to unionize the machinists in town, to ensure they would receive recognition for their work. It also ensured the job security of metalworkers in the town's budding manufacturing sector.

Donald Martin was a lieutenant in the Sunnydale Self Defense Force. Like most of Sunnydale's African American community, soldiers from either the military base or agents from the Initiative, he was stationed at the Sunnydale base for his tour. He had been born and raised in Oklahoma from a black-Cherokee family that had been kicked out of the tribe. He joined the military to ensure that he would never have to be in that situation ever again. After working hard, his congressman had sent him to West Point, ensuring his sponsorship into the prestigious academy. He had done well, in the top quarter of his class, and had been stationed in Sunnydale after serving in a base in Germany and in the Gulf War. He had emerged out of the Black community after proving himself to be an excellent officer and hard worker. Finch knew he was military to the core, but was no yes-man when it came to politics outside the base.

"Yes, I am late," Finch said. "I had to meet with the ambassadors of the stone giant clan and it went longer than I expected."

"I understand, but you could have at least told us that you would be a half hour late," Rodriguez said, his voice crisp with just a slight bit of an accent.

"Yes, I should have. I apologize," he said, sitting down at the table. He pulled out a note pad and a pen. "Now, as you know, this meeting was called so you could have your problems addressed. I would have liked to meet with you each individually, but with the final push before winter taking place, we are cramped for time as it is."

"So we get put in the same category, all non-whites and non-Americans in the same meeting," said Rodriguez sarcastically. "We're the 'minority' faction, after all."

"I am sure that is not what Mr. Finch meant, was it Mr. Finch," Donald Martin said. From what Finch had heard, Rodriguez and Martin had butted heads before.

"No, it was not. As soon as the summer push is over, I will meet with each of you," Finch said, "Individually and as a group. We are building a nation and that means we need a steady foundation. If it's cracked, everything you build on it is unstable."

"You are absolutely correct," the Norwegian representative said. "First of all, and I think I speak for everyone here in this instance, is that we all want to be involved in the constitutional committee." The others nodded their heads.

"That can be easily arranged. We are planning to have a meeting tomorrow to start things off," Finch said. "We don't expect to have finalized plan until sometime next year. What is next?"

"Full integration in the schools," Rodriguez and Martin said in unison. The two obviously did not expect to agree on anything and glared at each other.

"That was going to happen anyway, why is this such a concern?" Finch asked.

"There have been questions about your program to force everyone to speak English," Kurikawa said. "There have been rumors that those who do not complete this well, will be forced into other lower classes."

"Urgh, that's not exactly right," Finch said, gritting his teeth. The advisors was still looking for someone to fill in for the Director of Education. There was simply no one really qualified for the position. "That was supposed to be a temporary thing until their English improved. And it was supposed to apply only to ESL classes, not all classes. We need to have a language that everyone can speak well, and since the majority of Sunnydale speaks English, it only makes sense. If people have been spreading incorrect rumors about this we need to nip it in the bud."

"There are also issues of racism," spoke the Taiwanese woman. "I'm sick and tired of being called 'slant-eye' or 'chink' by lowlifes." The others nodded their heads.

"There have even been some of our school children who have been assaulted," reported Kurikawa. "You Americans seem to think all Japanese women are prostitutes. Not all women are geisha and geisha are not whores. This needs to stop."

"These are hate crimes. They need to be reported to the police, so that they can be properly dealt with," Finch said. By the dark looks on the representatives' faces, he knew the answer. "You already reported the incidents, didn't you?" They all agreed with grim faces. Finch sighed. "That goddam chief," he swore under his breath.

"You need a police force in this town, not a gang of thugs with badges," snarled Rodriguez. Finch guessed he had been on the bad side of some bad cops in the past.

"You are absolutely correct," Finch said. "If you want to be part of the committee working to fix that problem, we would welcome you with open arms. We simply do not have enough qualified people who actually know what they are doing. The chief is an incompetent, the street cops have a talent for looking the other way and the detectives are thugs with badges."

"We have military police, we could easily expand them to the city itself," Martin suggested.

"That causes a whole different set of problems because it makes it look like we are forging a military state. We know two groups that would be in almost instant rebellion if we did that," Finch said. "These are the same points the committee has been bringing up for months. We need something different." He was suddenly bombarded with different suggestions from each representative all at the same time. Franticly, he put up a hand to stop them. "Please, come to the committee meetings. Now, other concerns?"

They brought them up. The debates went on for a couple of hours, comments made back and forth, until Finch had declared that they would meet next week at the same time. Finch shook hands with each of them as they left, clutching the full note pad of notes under his arm. Once they were all gone, he ran down to the Mayor's office.

* * *

"Ah, Allan, how was your day?" The mayor was sitting at his desk, writing a new speech for the next news conference.

"Busy, and not over yet," Finch said, sitting down in front of the desk. He summarized his meetings and the issues they addressed. About eight hours of talk was summarized into a half hour. The mayor asked a few questions here and there about the situations, but finally they were done.

"Now, your next meetings," the Mayor said, cleaning his hands after touching Finch's notes. "You need to speak with Mr. Housecraft about the incident with Amy Madison."

"We don't have any direct evidence that he was involved," Finch cautioned.

"Oh, I know that well," Wilkins said with a grim smile. "Our investigative resources are…limited, to say the least. But we do know his followers are involved. Go talk to him. We can't have any of that kind of behavior in my city." There was a bit of extra emphasis on "my city."

"I'll do my best to encourage him to come clean," Finch agreed. "What is after that?"

"Deal with the McGristle issue," Wilkins stated, leaning back in his chair. "He has been a drain on Initiative resources for far too long. From what I hear, he's been in a screaming match with his fellow prisoner."

"Ah, the-uh, anti-Drizzt," Finch said, understanding the situation. It was one of the many terms used for the evil twin from another reality. Just thinking about the situation made Finch's head spin.

"The deluded man seems to think that the imprisonment of the other is justification that he be freed," the Mayor said with a bit of disgust.

"So he does not understand that simply because one person commits a crime does not mean a crime against that person is suddenly forgotten," Finch asked, trying to clear things up.

"Exactly. And unfortunately, he has been long incarcerated without being charged. As such, he has become something of a symbol to people who claim this town is becoming too feudal," Richard Wilkins said as he put the ever present hand sanitizer back into his desk. "I need you to make sure he does not become anything more. I need people to not think of what they have lost, but what they could become. Therefore, you need to set up a trial. Make it public and make sure the press covers it. And most of all, make sure that it paints McGristle as a villain: an obsessive, racist stalker who hunted a respected Sunnydale immigrant (who has fought to save our long time citizens) across the wilderness and attacked the poor boy when he was at his weakest. Make sure he looses public support. Sunnydale can't afford a scandal this early on."

"I understand," Finch said. This was nothing compared to what he had been required to do in the past. "I think I have just the right people for the job."

"Bring in our allies," the mayor said sternly. "Gather as much real evidence and present, but make sure it fits what we have to say."

"And for his defense?"

"One will be afforded to him," the Mayor said with a bright smile. Finch knew exactly how the choice would be made.

"I will take care of it tomorrow," Finch said jotting it down in his planner. This would also be a perfect opportunity to test out the new legal system and court room procedures.

"Also, we have a few other issues to take care of," the Mayor said, pulling out a printed piece of paper and handed it too the deputy mayor. "This is a list of special projects I need work on. Mr. Vhok will be assisting you with some of them, but he will be out of contact for a few days."

"I understand. Is Mr. Vhok an immigrant, or one of the 'special citizens' we have worked with in the past?" Finch asked.

"In a way, he's both," said Wilkins as he glanced out the window. "With the severe decrease in our sunlight challenged assistants, I was forced to make use of one of our newest arrivals. He has abilities that help with investigation and information retrieval, as well as some very successful and talented subordinates. Soon, I want to combine their small organization with the Watcher's Initiative to form a sort of clandestine national security agency."

"Supernatural spies, sir? Are you sure that is a good idea? And, wouldn't the Slayer…" Finch sought the correct word for the situation, "…object?"

"Actually, in this new world, it is the only way to go," Richard Wilkins stated firmly. "As for the Slayer, even she knows that not every demon or devil is an enemy. She works with several half demons in both construction and in the Initiative offices; they have at least three full demons in clerical positions. This is a changing world. She must adjust to it." The Mayor poured a tall glass of ice water; raising an eyebrow he offered Finch a glass as well, but the deputy mayor declined. "I am not ignorant of the threat the Zhents pose, but they are playing nice for now. I am well aware of other organizations that will not. As immigrants move in, and they will come in droves once the word gets out, organized crime will rise and we will be in a very poor position to control it from within or from without those organizations. I have heard of groups such as the Shadow Thieves of Waterdeep or the Harpers or even the agents of the Zhents that come in disguised. We will be at their mercy if we do not have out own people set in place to protect the interests of Sunnydale. My interests."

"I suppose you will want modern embassies in all the major nations in the area, am I correct?" Finch asked, finally agreeing with the Mayor. "This would give you a perfect stepping stone if need be."

"Exactly," the mayor said with an approving grin. "I knew there was a reason I made you my deputy. It's that excellent head on your shoulders."

"Thank you, Sir. But what is your eventual goal for Sunnydale? I've never been able to quite figure that out," Finch asked, half wondering if he was wandering into dangerous territory.

"I am going to make Sunnydale into the economic superpower of the continent," The Mayor said. "Right now, goods travel mostly by caravan and by ship. We are in a particularly poor position. With monster infested mountains to our north, the Great Desert to the east, and Hellgate Keep to the west, we are not in a frequently traveled local. We have the river to the south, one almost the size of the Missouri, but the rapids and falls make it impossible to use as a trade route until locks are put in. With the SunnyRail project ongoing, we will be in a position to control trade through the north. By ensuring we own the tracks and the cars we can charge what we want for moving them. Soon, rail travel will be more favorable to merchants than risking life and limb by traveling on their own. This will increase as other merchants notice the wealth of those who choose the rail. Soon almost everything will go through rail lines, rather than on foot."

"That still doesn't eliminate the sea route," Finch pointed out.

"No, not at first," Wilkins said, his smile widening. "The first trains will be wood fired, like the early Western rails in the US. Eventually we will increase the technology, so the trains become faster, more reliable and visit more places. Why travel by ship, which only lands in a few select harbors, when you can sell to every village up and down the coast? If the plan goes slowly enough, people won't even notice until it's too late."

"You are very knowledgeable on the subject," Finch said, surprised.

"I have an intimate knowledge with how the West was won," he said, with a widening grin. "I've studied it so much it's almost like I lived it."

"It just occurred to me, that this is a political maneuver as well," Finch said. "By controlling trade, you also hold sway over uncooperative towns and cities. If they don't agree, you can just threaten to withhold the trains. When everyone is dependant on the rail system for trade and movement, you could almost erase towns if you don't make a stop. This gives Sunnydale power over the entire train network."

"Now, now, would I ever do that?" asked the Mayor with faux innocence. He became serious again a moment later. "But we need it built first. Sunnydale to Adbar to Sundabar, to Silverymoon and beyond."

"What prevents others from making their own trains?"

"We ensure that no one gets a good look at the inside of the engines," the Mayor said. "Another reason to have an intelligence agency. And an air force."

"An air force, sir? We have a few planes, but not enough for an air force," Finch said. The mayor was ambitious, but shrewd. He always was thinking two, three, four steps ahead of everyone else.

"We aren't the only people with flight capabilities, and we are out of fuel and nearly out of bullets," the mayor pointed out. "It's only a matter of time before a group of dragons, demons, or other-nasty-flying-creatures decides we're a good snack. We managed to kill one dragon quickly because of the Apaches and the Slayer. The Apaches are grounded now and the Slayer can't be everywhere."

"How is the sale of the dragon going?"

"Quite well, it managed to clear quite a bit of out debt," the mayor said proudly. "The hoard is currently under water, but we know where it is and the cavern is quite sturdy. When everything is finished I will have some people clear it out and add it to the recovery fund."

"That will work out well. What happens to the beach and ocean remnant when winter comes?" Finch asked. "We're going from warm subtropical climate to a cold temperate. Won't the surviving creatures just die in there?"

"Wouldn't you know, I just got the report from the geologist not an hour ago," Wilkins said, pulling out another folder from his desk. "As you know, we're in a geologically active region. We've got the geothermal power up and going, but as much as it helps us now, we're in danger of earthquakes, but that's a different issue all together. From what I can tell from this report, all lakes and streams in the area are fed partially by hot springs. There happens to be a particularly hot one under the ocean lake."

"Will that be enough?" Finch asked. He was struggling to remember what he learned in college about this kind of thing.

"That's what the scientists tell me. Which reminds me, I want you to head over to the university and find out what is happening with the many projects."

"I have some time after this meeting, I could go over then," Finch said, glancing at his itinerary.

"Great! I think we've about covered everything here," the mayor said, giving the deputy mayor an appreciative nod.


	31. Chapter 31

Finch took a carriage to the University and headed right to the biology department, to see how things would play out with the salt water lake. The Bio department was quite large, the result of budget fixing by Professor Walsh back when she was in charge of the Initiative. Keeping that in mind, it made sense that they had a bit of a mad scientist streak in them. Opening the door, he heard them talking excitedly about the geological news.

"Don't you see! The pond is renewing itself constantly. The water continues to be kept warm with the influx of heated water from below," one lab assistant squawked excitedly. "As long as the water keeps flowing we don't have to worry about the temperature variation."

"But won't the salinity wear thin eventually? That will kill the sea creatures as surely as freezing would," Finch said as he stepped into the room, remembering his biology classes in college.

"Thank you, Mr. Finch. That's what I've been saying," said another exasperated lab assistant. Turning back to the other would-be scientists, the woman growled. "You're an idiot! It won't last more than a few more months when the Salinity goes down!"

"And that's why we're building the aquaculture laboratory," a new voice said, this one a middle aged woman in a white labcoat. She pulled out a new set of blueprints. "Allan. I don't think you've seen this yet. This is the plan for Sunnydale's newest construction project."

"Isn't this one of the buildings in the mountain city? The one we thought were baths?" Finch asked, confused. "I don't see how that is going to help us."

"Each bath is the size of a small pond," the scientist explained. "But all of them are connected to each other by pipes. In the initial design, so far as the architects, engineers and archaeologists can tell us, was that this would become gray water for washing streets, cleaning areas and feeding plants. We plan to turn them into aquaculture vats."

"You mean like a huge aquarium," Finch said, thinking he had the right idea.

"Exactly," the second lab assistant said. "It's a bit more complicated because of the weight of this much water, but we can do it. The walls and seams have to be much stronger than normal aquariums because of the massive amount of water we're dealing with. We want to raise the levels so that we can have even more in there. There are many species that live on layers and if we can take advantage of that we could do wonders."

"What are you making the walls out of? We don't have any plexiglass left and I don't think our glassworks has that kind of manufacturing capabilities," Finch said, just pointing out criticisms. The first lab assistant looked crest fallen and the second looked vindicated.

"That's something we haven't quite worked out yet," the head biologist said. "The archaeology department found something they think will work, a sort of transparent metal mineral that the city builders used to make windows. It has the strength of steel, but the weight and transparency of glass. Pound for pound, it's even stronger than aluminum. If the chemistry department can synthesize it, it could solve a number of our problems."

"I can see how it would help in a lot of ways. If this works, you might actually be able to feed everyone with this," Finch said.

"Not exclusively, but it will supplement our food," the hyperactive lab assistant said, pointing out several spots on the blueprint. "These particular places are water drains that recycle the water. The Archaeologists think they were originally planning on tapping the groundwater to fill them and then let the baths cycle through constantly refreshed water. We are planning something similar, but all the water will go through a cycling system like a personal garden pond. This entire complex will become essentially a giant series of fish tanks that will grow everything from lobsters to fish to shellfish. We could actually make it a luxury item if all works well."

"That's almost more ambitious than the SunnyRail project," Finch said, impressed.

"We have an almost inexhaustible source of power, we might as well use it to keep us alive," the scientists said with a smirk. "And don't forget that UC Sunnydale is a sea grant college. That's a whole department just going to waste in this new land locked nation."

"So are these the maps of the mountain city? Is it okayed for occupation?"

"Almost we're getting there," the first lab assistant said, almost jumping up and down with excitement. "It isn't completely mapped yet. Every time they think they've figured it out, they find a new section of the city. It's almost two miles across and quarter of a mile deep. Whoever built that was a massive civilization, thought big and built bigger. From what we can tell it has almost everything planned out. From what my friends tell me-" She was quickly cut off by the lead scientists.

"Kiki, if he wanted to hear the whole story, he would go to the archaeology department and get the real story behind it, not second hand from a hyperactive lab assistant that poings all over the place," grumbled the second assistant. The first assistant's face fell and suddenly seemed overly depressed.

"My name's not Kiki," she said, moping.

* * *

Deputy Mayor Allan Finch then moved onto the chemistry department, to see what the problems they were having. He had heard that a number of commonly used earth substances were not able to be reproduced easily, much as Dr. Walsh had said to him earlier in the day. This new substance also intrigued him. Harder than steel, stronger than aluminum and as transparent as glass. Grinning as he thought of the Mayor's plans for Sunnydale, the deputy mayor trudged down the hallway.

* * *

Allan Finch walked into the Chemistry building at UC Sunnydale in the mid afternoon. The place was remarkably quiet, with no current experiments active. Instead the great majority of chemists and assistants were gathered in one of the classrooms, hashing out a problem on the blackboard.

"No, it still doesn't make sense," said one of them, a woman by the name of Dr. Melanson. Finch didn't know her first name. "The elements simply don't combine this way."

"Or we just don't yet know how to force them to combine that way," said another chemist.

"Dr. Fallon, I cannot believe a society as primitive as this would be able to perform this kind of complex chemistry," argued Dr. Melanson. She was an attractive woman in her late 40s with just a touch of gray in her hair. She had an instantly recognizable precision streak. Dr. Fallon was almost her exact opposite. He was young, fat and a slob. Unfortunately for those who dealt with him on a regular basis, he was quite smart and a bit arrogant about it. In the few times Finch had visited the laboratory, he was rarely seen without something to eat. As it was, his lab coat, still nominally white, had a yellowish tinge the other coats did not. Mentally, Allan Finch had likened the man to a chemical focused Dennis Nedry on more than one occasion. "Oh, Mr. Finch. What are you doing here today?"

"I heard about the glass steel recovered from the city and wanted to see how things were going," he said. Nodding to the blackboard, he raised a questioning eyebrow. "Is this it?"

"Yes, this is the whole mess," Dr. Melanson said, gesturing to take in the whole blackboard. "Chemistry that doesn't follow the rules of chemistry."

"The rules we know of!" insisted Dr. Fallon. Dr. Melanson just glared at him.

"What is the problem?"

"The problem is that we can't replicate this, even on a small scale," Dr. Melanson said. "We have figured out the molecular structure of the substance, but we don't why it has the structure it does."

"What if it's magical?" Finch asked innocently. The scientists glared at him almost instantly. Like most Sunnydale Scientists, the local chemistry department did not approve of the "it's magic" explanation for many things. One intrepid mathematician had seen fit to mathematically "prove" dragons shouldn't be able to fly, against all visual evidence to the contrary of course.

"Nonsense." The two chemists said in unison.

"It's a possibility; a very likely one in fact," he continued. The two chemists looked about ready to argue loudly. So he used the gambit that always shut them up. "Horse drawn flying chariots on fire."

They both shut up.

"So, have you tried investigating other avenues? Have you asked the ambassadors about the problem?" Finch continued. "You might think they are primitive, but Ambassador Axegrinder is an accomplished metallurgy expert and the others are at least aware of chemistry under the guise of Alchemy. Just because they don't have indoor pluming doesn't mean they are stupid."

While they stammered, Finch quickly continued on his way, this time to the seed bank and plant repository. When the Shift happened, the town of Sunnydale was caught with its figurative pants down. Sure they had some few small farms, but one thing all of them had discovered quickly was that some plants just couldn't survive the sudden shift from Zone 9 to Zone 6 or 5 (until winter they would not be able to know which). It was only September and people were already noticing a number of their crops were not surviving. In sunny southern California with the long growing seasons and general heat, many crops could be grown year round. That was not going to be the case anymore. Scientists believed that there would be a large number of dead trees come winter, with a large number of the ornamentals being acclimated to their previous climate.

With this in mind, the Agriculture department of UCS had taken over the Sunnydale Dome, the local ice rink. It was already converted to having water on the floor, so that was not a problem. They were also able to convert the roof into a series of skylights which could be programmed to open and close with a flip of a switch. The result was the biggest indoor greenhouse in the town. The wooden bleachers on one half had been broken down and the lumber used for raised beds and divisions between the sections; the other half was used as a series of steps for potted plants. Tons of soil had been imported into the building to support the plants. The final effect was more like a small indoor jungle than a biological research station.

There were basically five zones in the Dome. Each section held a group of plants that had similar needs in soils and humidity. The first was the desert section where a great number of plants were being planted. Primarily, these were plants that were known to have important uses, such as agave (though Finch suspected this was more for the use in making tequila rather than anything practical). This was kept as dry as needed, with scrambled together dehumidifiers pumping the water out of the air and into the second section.

This second section was dedicated to mimicking a tropical rainforest. Spices, herbs, exotic fruits and others were grown here. This section was situated in the middle of the building to allow for greater heights that some of those plants could reach. The rainforest section was more for posterity than any ideas of mass production. Finch doubted that many people would be able to taste the results save once or twice per year. People treated vanillia flavoring and extract like the finest of fine wines. Chocolate was even more prised, and kept as secret stocks under lock and key.

This third section was dedicated towards teaching people how to grow plants at home. These were herbs, indoor fruit trees and small gardens. Nothing was planted here permanently, but it was used as a starting place for cloned plants, seedlings and cuttings which would go into production at people's homes. One of the more unpopular decisions the Mayor had made was his plan for everyone to know about farming. Sunnydale had a large population of white collar workers and the idea of being forced to grow your own food was not pleasant. But the Mayor had insisted on it and this particular lab was created to teach people how to do just that. And, as wonders never cease in Sunnydale, the seminars had caught on like wildfire. Sunnydale's private sector looked more like something out of Britain with raised beds and exquisitely shaped gardens where lawns and patios used to be.

The fourth section was often considered to be the most important. This section, the largest of them all, had glass walls like the others, but was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. This particular section contained the budding medicinal plant development laboratory. Cannabis, the opium poppy and other previously illegal plants were being tested for viability in use of painkillers for the hospitals. Already hemp was in mass production for use as an anti-inflammatory and it's many other properties. Other plants were also being experimented on, including the local Cassil shrub, which, by local legend was said to render a man infertile for about a week and Nararoot, the tuberous equivalent for women. The local populace was pushing for human testing as soon as possible. The cave moss found in the buried city was declared edible, having been tested in this very laboratory.

Allan Finch sat down in the fifth and final section. This was a place where people brought plants they found or had raised themselves, but might not have the time to care for. It was a strange mishmash of bonsai, hanging potted plants and exotic flowers. With the oncoming winter, people were afraid some of their houses would not be warm enough and heirloom plants would die and had brought them here to the laboratory. The final effect was rather beautiful. Taking a break, Allan Finch, the deputy mayor of Sunnydale, accidental second in line of the new executive branch, and poor diplomat, ate a small sandwich while he absorbed the day's events. This had become a small tradition of his. Although the doors were normally kept unlocked, there was rarely anyone who came around after hours. Here, in his private hiding place, Allan Finch was able to get some well needed peace and quiet. The warm and quiet was relaxing and soon, he leaned back and took a nap.

* * *

Dark Willow looked down on the city of Sunnydale. In that first month she had learned all she could from Elminster without spending years under his tutelage, save sapping the magic from him directly. There were no spells exchanged or particular spellweaving involved in their interaction. At best it could be considered a brief training course from a coworker. It took little time to see that they would never see eye to eye on most subjects. A big part of that was a simple matter of background, as much as Elminster might deny it. Elminster was a born prince and a longtime follower of Mystra. Dark Willow had tried to destroy the world and almost succeeded. However, they had irreconcilable differences in their opinions of magic as well. Elminster felt it was best to teach rather than take, a lesson he had been taught the hard way in his youth. Dark Willow felt that magic should be taken first and then given out after it is mastered. Elminster tended to look at her as a child who needed a nap. Dark Willow looked at Elminster as an old letch who managed to have some magical ability. There were also…issues with her sexuality. It was one of the many things about the old mage that she had learned to dislike: he had a bit of a homophobic streak.

That month of learning of the Weave had taught her an important lesson: everything was connected. She was connected to this Sunnydale as much as she was connected to magic itself and the powers that went from that. She had already witnessed her capacity for regeneration, possibly better than the Slayer. She could feel magic all around her and in all things. In her old world, she had trashed everything in an attempt to get back what she had lost. Now she knew that was foolish. She knew she was foolish, but that did not make the pain any less.

She instead was about to throw herself into her magic, but not the way she had lost control before. Before she had relied on others: power from Rack, the intoxication of casting spell after spell. Here, in the Weave, she felt no need for that rush. The power was hers to use. It was like slapping a patch on a nicotine addict.

One of the many things she had learned when dealing with Elminster was that her ability to sense magic far outstripped his own. To her, magic was a scent, something to chase after and enjoy after the climax. Elminster argued that personal creation was more important and that as Chosen they had responsibilities to spread it throughout the realms. Truth be told, she did not know why she returned to Sunnydale. It was not her Sunnydale, after all. That was not her Tara who lived in the city below. There was little reason for her to return. And yet she had.

Glancing down at the town one last time, she sighed and sought out her options. She was unsure where to go next. There were many areas rich in magic: Netheril and Myth Drannor to the east; Halruaa to the south; Waterdeep and Candlekeep to the west. Of course these were only a few of the many magical realms. She was tempted to try her luck against Hellgate Keep, but that might be foolish to try alone. Any direction was as good as another. Picking a random route, she flew off, leaving Sunnydale behind.

* * *

"Hey, Mr. Finch."

Still asleep, the deputy mayor scrunched up his face at the sound.

"Hey."

Finch opened one eye. He was still in the Sunnydale Dome garden. And it was morning. Snapping upright, he glanced around. Standing over him was one of the people assigned to the morning tending of the experiments. One of the college students, Finch guessed.

"Uh, how long have you been here, Mr. Finch?"

Finch rubbed his eyes.

"Since yesterday," he said with a yawn. It was time to get up, get cleaned, have breakfast and get back to work. He glanced at his watch. 5:37. He'd been asleep for almost twelve hours. Crap. He missed the meeting with the Mayor. "Look, if you don't mind, would you please, uh, not mention to anyone that I was in here. It, uh, might look bad, considering the experiments in here."

"Hey, no problem man, I know what you mean," the man said. He held out a hand and helped the deputy mayor to his feat. "Just, uh, you've gotta be tired if you fall asleep in here. It's not the most comfortable place." He suddenly looked really hesitant. "Not, that I'm judging you or anything man!"

"No worries," Finch said, clapping the man on the shoulder. "I've just been really tired lately."

Giving the man a nod of thanks, Finch walked out the door and started back towards his apartment. Unlocking the door, Finch walked inside and shut the door behind him. Silently, he trudged to the bathroom; a while later he was clean and felt a little refreshed. He walked to his closet, put on a new suit and sat down for breakfast. There was a senior staff meeting at nine and he had to be ready. Finishing his weak coffee (he had been straining and refrigerating the grounds for reuse for a while now; it was quite thin), he rushed out of the house, clamored onto his bicycle and peddled off to City Hall.

* * *

In Zhentil Keep, Manshoon was pondering the account he had heard from his diplomat of the previous night. Apparently, Cormyr had finally sent a team to investigate the new nation. Cormyr had, by the rumors, accused Sunnydale of colluding with demons. Manshoon had been informed that the Sunnydale definition of Demon was not exactly the same as the Faerunian definition, as it tended to encompass all creatures from other planes, not just those from the Abyss. Also, not all of those were seen as "evil" as the term went, although some did. Vampires and all other undead were considered to be evil, as were others that feasted on mortals or demanded lives in sacrifice.

Manshoon was amused by the situation. Although Peris was technically a traitor to the Zhentarim, and both of them knew it, he was very skilled and useful. Peris was also dedicated to fight against the powers of Fzoul and the Beholder, both of which were becoming a little too powerful for Manshoon's own good. Fzoul, the High Cleric of Bane, had been attempting to turn the Zhentarim into a theocratic regime under his rule for some time now. Manshoon, the founder of the mercantile organization, was more interested in power rather than what deity had the most fawning minions, er, clerics.

Clerics had their uses, but Manshoon had regretted the decision to join forces with the Church of Bane almost since the moment he did so. Soon, Fzoul would call for a period of cleansing, Manshoon predicted, and Manshoon's faction would be lucky to escape with their lives. He was powerful, but he was not so overly arrogant as to think he would prevail unscathed. He needed an exit stratagem, and he was beginning to form one. It might be time to make a state visit to Sunnydale.

* * *

Allan Finch carefully pulled his bike up the steps and into City Hall. The parking lot under the building was still filled with water and the only place to keep transportation was out on the lawn for horses (which were in short supply) or bicycles (which had become a favored target of theft). Slipping into his office he started reviewing his notes. A short while later, there was a knock at his door. "Come in."

The door opened to reveal Kaanyrr Vhok, former leader of the Scoured Legion and current Special Projects administrator for Sunnydale. Other people might not know what Special Projects meant, but Finch had worked for the Mayor for years. Procuring babies for sacrifice was the least of Vhok's new tasks. Vhok deposited a bundle of books on Finch's desk.

"I'm supposed to tell you these were 'found' in the houses of the fallen from the attack this summer," Vhok said with a smile. Finch glanced at the stack. They were a series of technical manuals to technology from the First and Second World Wars. Books Finch knew were not from Sunnydale. That restricted section in the Initiative kept all books found so far that could be potentially dangerous if they fell into the wrong hands. It was a massive collection of books.

"This was your special project for yesterday, wasn't it?" Finch said.

"What's a special project?"

'Fine, go the plausible deniability route,' though Finch bitterly, glaring at the person's sardonic smile. Out loud, he kept his temper in check. "Should I mention that these were discovered in the process of winterizing houses?"

"I suppose that could work," the cambion replied. Finch had to admit the creature was good at his job and was on the verge of scarily smart. He had only a trace of an accent in English, something that reminded Finch of South Africa, and had picked up American idioms very well. He could read English almost perfectly, already fluent in Orcish, and was starting on the other four major languages: Chinese, Japanese, Spanish, and Norwegian.

"You're not going to tell me where you got these, are you?" asked Finch, the question rhetorical. The cambion only smiled and slipped out the door. Allan Finch sighed. Might as well add them to the talk.

He focused back on his notes for a while before moving towards the conference room. Although he was not the first, there were still a number of people left to arrive. The General, Walsh, Dr. Chung, Joyce Summers and Rupert Giles were present. Finch didn't expect the Slayer and her friends to show up, as they tended to find this kind of meeting boring.. Soon enough, the others arrived and the meeting was ready to begin. The Mayor sat down at Finch's left, at the head of the table.

"As you know, we are behind in our construction goals," the Mayor said. "Winter is coming and we aren't quite ready. Mr. Finch here is going to get us all up to speed on the situation. Mr. Finch?"

"Thank you Mr. Mayor," he replied, standing up. He pressed the button to bring up the first slide. "As you know, this is Sunnydale as it was before the Shift." He clicked to a new slide. This one showing the sprawling metropolis Sunnydale had become with the expansion. "This is where we are as of a week ago. We have houses for a great number of people, but we aren't done." The next slide showed a house partially finished through winterization. "We are approximately 1/3 of the way towards winterizing all buildings. The residential areas around Revello Drive and the new districts along the Ridge Route and Lakeside Heights are winterized by now, but the greater majority are not. We are facing a serious crisis. The way I see it, we can only finish a quarter of the remaining before snowfall, and that is assuming we break our promises of a return to normal after the Equinox."

"That is not an option," Joyce Summers said. She had changed position to more of a press secretary for the Wilkins administration. The people were willing to talk to her when they wouldn't talk to Finch or the others. "People are already on the verge of revolt and something like this might push them over the edge."

"I agree," Nabiki Tendo said. She was still the de facto liaison to the "foreign" population in town even through each minority faction had their own leader. She dealt with them on a daily basis and only passed them off to Finch for a special meeting. "No people are going to be happy if this continues. There are many problems that have already begun to surface and this will only make them worse."

"I am aware of that, and that is one of the many things we need to discuss in this meeting," Wilkins said. He looked back to Finch and nodded for him to continue.

"We all know the consequences of what could and will happen this winter," Finch said. "People, animals and plants are going to die if we don't get something worked out. The first problem we can deal with by household consolidation to a certain degree, but that only goes so far. There is the simple fact that people are not used to having two or more families in the same household and we already have that in many cases from the initial refugees. Mandating this more would cause greater protests. These protests would be especially loud coming from those who have the most room, as we have already seen." He looked directly at the Economic advisor, Mr. Chase. Chase glared back for just a moment, but relaxed. "We need to find some kind of middle ground."

"How about a volunteer program? We collect the names of families who are willing to volunteer to house other families and give them benefits for doing so," Joyce suggested. There were nods from around the table. "That way we eliminate the heavy handedness of an executive order and we can lay the blame on those who don't help."

"An excellent idea," the Mayor said. "But please continue, Mr. Finch."

"That will help a great deal, but it will not fix the entire problem," Finch said. "I propose we use a Japanese model to help us get through the winter. It will also help us conserve resources that we could then use for other things like continuing the winterization during winter." He flipped to a photograph of an outdoor hot spring. "This is a hot spring. It's generated by heat boiling up from below the surface and can be very hot. It only appears in volcanically active regions like Japan, Yellowstone, and this region right here. Now, with a country like Japan where timber is a precious resource, most places do not build with the same amount of supplies that we do here, or did back in the States. Instead they use public bath houses to warm them up and then go to bed in heavy blankets. The building itself stays rather cold, but the people are warm. My suggestion is that we focus less on the immediate renovation of all houses and build a few of these."

"I'll be quite blunt, but why? Would this really be in our best interest as a long term investment?" Chase was looking at the economic side of things as usual and ignoring the practical as usual. He was far too much like his brother and sister-in-law for Finch to like the man. White bread, upper crust, with a nose too far up in the air to see the common person, Chase considered himself to be among the chosen in terms of social status and that had not changed after the Shift. In fact, it seemed to have gotten worse.

"To save lives, Mr. Chase, to save lives," said the General from the back of the room. Finch gave him a small smile of thanks. The General was always someone who never forgot that saving lives was his ultimate job. Sunnydale was damn lucky to have him, too. "How do you propose to build them, and where?"

"Preferably, I would like to have them situated in existing population centers," Finch clicked to the next slide. The map was similar to those before, but instead a number of lines had been highlighted in purple and several with green. "The purple lines represent water pipes no longer in use after they were cut off during the Shift. I would like to use them to supply geothermal hot springs water with gravity feed assisted by a series of mechanical pumps. I asked the engineering department, and they claim that the pipes can deal with the boiling water and are chemically safe for the most part. The green lines are what we are currently using to supply fresh water to housing districts. In few places will the two pipelines interact and that can be dealt with by creating bypasses for one or the other."

"As for where they would go," Finch continued, "that is a different problem. We need to have them where people live, but we don't really have space in those same centers. We could use some of the parks or cemeteries. Since the public baths would be a necessity I don't think too many people would complain."

"I have a couple of questions," said Dr. Chung. "First, I like the idea, but we need to make sure that there are different levels of heat in different baths to prevent overheating. That was really more of a comment. Second, what about using existing buildings that have yet to be modified?"

"To answer the first, we'd need advice on how to do that and what those temperatures should be," Finch began before being interrupted by a commotion from the hallway. The mayor scowled and nodded to a guard who exited the room. As the door opened, angry words in some unknown language echoed through the room. Finch signed as he recognized the voice of the Cormyrian "diplomat." He looked back at the mayor. "Could we take a short break?"

The mayor nodded sadly. Finch put on a grim look and followed after the guard. Sure enough, the Purple Knight was trying to get into the meeting. His demands were unknown since no one was using translation magic. He was angry, whatever he was saying. As the man spied Finch, the Cormyrian started at him, forcing the deputy mayor to take an involuntary step back. The guards kept a firm hand on the Knight's shoulders, preventing him from going any further. The knight kept yelling something.

Finch reached into his pocket, pulling out the translation amulet. He hung it around his neck and willed it to start its magic. As was usually the case, the words suddenly made sense.

"You-_fools_! You let evil infest your city! Your city will fall into the hands of evil! And then you will all know the truth!" The blather went on, but Finch ignored it for a moment.

"You are obviously upset, but you are also obviously not a diplomat," Finch said. "This is not the way to encourage good will, nor is it the time or place for such a discussion. We are in the middle of a meeting. Please, we can meet at a later time to discuss your perceived grievances." The knight was having none of it. As he ranted on, Finch pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Finally, Finch had enough. "WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

That shut the knight up.

It also surprised the guards, the people in the meetings and those in nearby offices. All sound seemed to stop as the normally quiet and mild mannered Allan Finch finally lost it. He absorbed the silence for a long moment before stalking over to the man. "We run our government the way we wish, but the demands of the citizens, and not foreign powers! You walk in here, demanding to review our actions when you clearly have no respect for anyone else! Don't you ever speak to me or anyone with that tone about 'evil' or whatever bullshit you people think we have going one here! I am so fucking sick and tired of you and your kind looking at us like we are idiots or simpletons! Our old nation is so far advanced and we didn't even need magic to do any of it! We could move armies across continents in under a week! Cross oceans in less than a day! We landed on the moon and sent satellites out of the solar system! You primitive pieces of shit have no right to come into our town and act so sanctimonious about some perceived religious offense or difference in opinion! We have a thing called rule by the masses, something your kind would never understand! If we make a choice, it's ours to make! We don't interfere with your backwards, primitive culture, so don't you start shoving your nose into ours, you sword wielding, purple dyed tin can! Come back when you have indoor plumbing you primitive, feudal, autocratic, might-makes-right, squalor living, shit-in-the-streets horse lovers!"

By the time he was finished, Allan was beet red in the face and was heaving with the effort. And everyone was looking at him. A few, the MPs at the doors in particular, looked more than a little scared. The other advisors were looking at him from the two doors to the room. It felt good to let go.

But then, Allan Finch's eyes met the mayors and all bluster blew away.

"Mr. Finch, I think you need a time out," Richard Wilkins said in a disapproving, fatherly tone.

Finch sighed and walked into his office. But just as he was about to shut the door, Finch heard the Mayor's words to the diplomat quite clear. "As for you, Allan might not have kept his cool about the situation, but everything he said was right. I think it's time for you and your pals to leave Sunnydale until you can come back with a real diplomat. The MPs will escort you out."

* * *

A week passed since Allan Finch's now legendary outburst. The rumors had gotten out about how the deputy mayor had giving the Cormyr ambassador a brutal dressing down and as a result, Finch was both hero and villain to various factions in the city. The edited version (for language) was released over the airwaves and there was an uproar over talking to a visiting representative in such a tone. The irony of the situation was that Finch's public persona had transformed from a man in the shadows to a hot-head. Finally, Finch himself went on the air with a press release to address his behavior.

"Four days ago I confronted the leader of the Cormyrian Embassy," Deputy Mayor Allan Finch said to the press. It was his first time really in the spotlight of the press, even back when it was just the local news. "I am here today to apologize for-" Finch cut himself off and paused a moment. He glanced at the words he had prepared: polite, calm, meek. They were not what he wanted to say. "Actually, I am not here to apologize for what I said to the Ambassador, but really only how I said it. I was rude, this I will admit and I agree I should not have lost my temper at him. But the fact remains that what I said, the core of the meaning, was true: we have the right to rule ourselves the way we wish."

"Now think about that a moment," he said, glancing at the cameras and microphones. The carefully crafted script was useless at this point. "We are not yet a nation. We are a city lost in a hostile wilderness. We are a group of factions shoved into a small space. We do not have enough food to feed everyone a full meal all the time so some of us go hungry. These past few months we have been trying to correct this and re-forge our city into a nation. But we aren't there yet. Jesus Rodriguez knows this. Donald Martin knows this. Nabiki Tendo knows this. The orcs know this and I know this."

"That is an important bit to remember," Finch continued. "We—as in you, me, the neighbors next door and the guy across the street—We have to organize ourselves or else someone else is going to come along and do it for us. Like that man from Cormyr."

"I don't know if people have actually heard what he said, but he accused us of being corrupt and foolish, of being unable to rule ourselves," he said. "He took it upon himself to inspect the city and checking to see if it was up to his standards. He has no right to say what we can and cannot do. The man doesn't even understand the concept of democratic rule and he took it upon himself to 'inspect' Sunnydale for, and I quote, 'evil' which he claimed to find. He found it impossible to understand why we do not have a feudal lord. And he expected me to bow over for him simply because he's the great and mighty Oz of his home town. That wasn't going to work here. We aren't a monarchy with an aristocracy. We didn't have even monarchical rule on the Earth except for a few small places. And those few are mostly figureheads now. It's something we are going to have to remember for the future."

"This is not the last time we are going to deal with feudal lords," Finch commented. "There will be a second, a third and I don't doubt we will get to several hundred over time. But in our lack of royalty, of a noble class, others will perceive weakness where there is none. We need to make sure there is no weakness.

"They way we are now, we are weak," Finch said honestly. "We have a small army that can barely keep minotaurs from getting into the city. We have an air force that doesn't have fuel for the planes. Our police force is understaffed and overworked. If a major attack hit us now, we could easily be crushed. But does that mean I am giving up hope? Hell no! This just means we need to work harder than we ever did before. To get where we want to be, we have to work harder, stricter. We have to organize ourselves, not have people do it for us."

"And this brings up the economic bind we are in," he said grimly. "We have a growing debt to other nations and we only have so much to repay those debts. We can't always depend on a surplus of demon-orc armor or a sudden discovery of some ancient artifact. We are the only ones who can overcome that. We, together, as Sunnydale."

"We need to focus on production, both for ourselves and for trade," Finch said. "I don't want all this debt hanging over my head, but I know that if we all work together, we can turn this debt into a surplus. Economics is how we rise and fall and I know we can rise. We have debt now, but when we get production going there is nothing that can stop us. By working together we can not only stay where we are in terms of technology, but even continue on. We can become one of the greatest nations this world has ever known."

"Now, I don't mean we have some kind of Manifest Destiny," clarified the deputy mayor. "I mean that we are in control of our own destiny. We are the people of the future, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise! We have technology beyond anything else on this planet and eventually that technology is going to spread. We won't be able to stop that. When people see the power of a car or a gun they are going to try and recreate them. For all we know they might move towards a magical solution. When it comes down to it, we need to keep ahead of the curve so we don't get lost in the maelstrom we create. If we don't keep our heads above water we might well become another failed nation in the Nether Mountains. We must _become _Sunnydale."

With that, Allan Finch suddenly realized how much he said. And he suddenly became very aware of all the cameras in front of him. He took a deep breath and let it out. Glancing about the room he looked at the reporters and put on a sheepish little smile.

"Any questions?"


	32. Chapter 32

From the cover of the shadows, Sunnydale was watched. This was not so strange, before it was by the vampires and demons that occupied the budding city. Now it was by invaders of their new world. These invaders were the Drow, relatives of Drizzt Do'Urden and confused by the common arrogance of their kind: that they were superior. But for all that Sunnydale seemed weak, it was not.

In the months since Allan Finch had given his speech, Sunnydale had redoubled its efforts, rebuilding and reincarnating itself. Although it was only a few short months, significant changes had come about. At this point, the changes were not so great, but they had opened the gates towards greater improvement.

The police chief, always an incompetent, had been disposed and people had come together to develop a new police force. The result was a strange amalgamation of people, languages and techniques. The traffic department, become superfluous by the lack of fuel, was dispersed among the other departments; corrupt officers were sought out and quarantined from the new crop of officers; and experienced members of the Military Police resigned and began training the new police force.

All of these corrupt former cops tried spilling the beans on others. Sometimes this was true, like in the case of the former chief, but others were quickly proven false, like the several accusations put against Mayor Wilkins. After everything he had done for Sunnydale, hardly any citizen of the new nation believed it and the allegations were quickly forgotten almost as if they had never been voiced.

Other areas that were affected by the changes were the diplomatic situation with Sunnydale's neighbors. The stone giants had decided to trade with Sunnydale and had given three herds of rothe, the strange bantha like creatures, to Sunnydale. These were grazed on a series of peaks and islands isolated by the lake that Sunnydale's arrival had created. People were not used to dealing with such large animals and were very surprised by the amount of food they required. However, when they learned the beasts were able to feed on the strange fungi growing in parts of the mountain city, they eagerly colonized the strange stone-hewn city. It was strange living in such a dark area, but the military engineers had fastened lights to several buildings, brightening the city considerably.

This had solved a few of the problems involved with the massive over population and lack of resources. Some buildings were closed for the winter, mainly those without the winter conversion needed to survive in the new climate. These were boarded up, the contents removed and the people and animals relocated. Outlying warehouses were converted into barns, with new slanted roofs built on existing flat roofs. This created a new level that could store goods and feed for the animals they now depended on for food and clothing while housing those same animals in the area below.

Sunnydale, at first hesitant with the large population of orcs, now embraced them. Most members of this native species was stronger than the average human and were willing to do just about anything if it could be described to them in terms they could understand. They now trained side by side with the new Sunnydale Self Defense Force in a strategy put forth by their new leader. Drill sergeants were quick to remind all members of the military force that the color of your skin, be it white, black, green or any other shade, the only thing that mattered was the color of the uniform. The orcs were having trouble with this drastic change. Some orcs had fought against human settlements for decades and were now told to fight side by side with them. There was a schism building in the orc community between the young and the old which also tended to coincide with the split between the followers of Ilneval and the followers of Gruumsh.

Ilneval's shaman, the new orcish leader, was pushing for reforms towards controlled power and strikes, exactly what the humans of Sunnydale chose every day. He knew that the kill-everything mentality that pervaded in the followers of Gruumsh would only hurt his rise to power. They would also kill him if they had half the chance. Unlike the stereotype of his people, he was no fool and was the perfect follower of his deity: cold, careful, and calculating. Capable of incredible destruction if pushed too far or if the goal was worth it. He considered pulling the orcish tribes out of barbarism a goal well worth it. So he had started hammering his clan into something Ilneval would be proud of, a fighting force made more powerful than anything else in the Realms. He was quite sure his deity would welcome humans as well as orcs. Ilneval was not as blind to change as Gruumsh was. The pun was intended.

He used the tactics of the Sunnydale drill sergeants to train the clan, unifying the clothing and tactics of his orc fellows. He, with the help of Sunnydale's budding garments industry, had developed a patch, a bloodied sword crossed with a machine gun, which was on every uniform of every orc warrior that adopted the new tactics. It unified them as one, something the previous leaders had failed to do. He also chose the most intelligent of the young orcs and commanded that they attend the human school. These few, only fifteen out of the three hundred seventy three orcs that survived, were smarter than the average human, but not as smart as the human geniuses. His goal was to achieve a greater unification of peoples than had ever been seen before in the Realms. Although he still wanted to keep orcs orcs, a little extra intelligence in the form of a few half orcs would not hurt any. The first step in that goal was gaining acceptance in the human society. In his way, the Shaman was as ambitious as the Mayor was in his.

He also stretched out a hand to the tanaruuks, those demon orcs that had attacked Sunnydale some months ago. They were stronger and smarter than the average member of his species; having been selectively bred over several centuries. These former members of the Scoured Legion were well trained, intelligent and were leaderless. Although some of the humans had been opposed to the two groups making greater contact, since the tanaruuks were technically a foreign army and prisoners of war, the orcish leader had convinced them that it was a good idea. The closest thing the tanaruuks had to a leader was the young human known as Xander Harris 2. He had no idea why a human would have a number for a name, but humans were strange.

This Xander Harris 2 was strange because he was a man of peace, something of an anathema to the Shaman. He claimed that he had dressed as something called the Dolly Llama for some semi-religious celebration known as Howl-Ween. The Shaman did not understand why someone would call one's self a Child's Toy-Herd Animal, but once again, humans were strange. (The Shaman only knew what a llama was because a small herd had arrived with Sunnydale). Apparently this Dolly Llama was some kind of religious leader who professed peace before war and was considered to be a great man. By dressing up as this Dolly Llama, Xander Harris 2 had gained his power due to some kind of magical spell. It was something the Shaman was considering attempting himself.

"So, tell me Xander Harris 2, why are you so opposed to my involving myself with your prisoners," The Shaman asked, sitting down at the table with the young human.

"I just don't think it's right that you make them fight," the boy replied. "They finally get to rest and now you want them to fight again. They don't know anything else and I think they'd make great farmers."

"But Sunnydale needs Warriors," the Shaman commented. "Without protection, all of this could easily be destroyed."

"If everyone chooses peace, there is no need for warriors," countered the young human.

"I cannot understand that mentality," The Shaman growled, ripping a piece of his meat from the bone. "You are nothing but a dreamer."

"But I'm not the only one," answered Xander Harris 2. It seemed to the Shaman that it was a practiced line, perhaps from one of their many songs. "Perhaps one day you will join us? The Buddha teaches that everyone has their plan."

"Bah! Ilneval sees the battle field and he plans accordingly," The Shaman growled, drinking heavily from the wine bottle. The Shaman had become quite fond of this Shard-on-aye drink and it was clearly a warrior's drink. "That is the only plan I need follow."

"But when the battlefield changes to farm land, the plan has to change," said the interdimensional twin of Alexander Harris with a grin.

"Bah!"

* * *

"McGristle verses the People of Sunnydale!" The bailiff called out just as the judge walked in.

"McGristle, you stand accused of assault, premeditated attempted murder and conspiring to abduct and/or murder one Drizzt Do'Urden, a citizen of Sunnydale," stated the Judge clearly in the hushed courtroom. She was a woman in her late sixties and she looked like she knew how to pummel with a gavel, not just use it in court. The man in question had long since turned a beet red color from trying to control his rage at being accused of attacking a drow. "How does the defendant plead?"

"My Client would like to put forth a plea of not guilty, your honor," said the public defender. He had a rumpled suit and a moth bitten tie and looked like he had just rolled out from under the bar from the previous night's bender. Even hours later he looked like he was about to keel over ever time he stood up.

"I expect your client knows the consequences for contempt of court by now, am I correct?"

"Yes, I believe he has learned his lesson after the fourth time he has been held in contempt, your Honor," the defense lawyer stated, just a slight burr in his speech giving away the not-quite sober state he was in.

"Good. The trial will begin in one week," the Judge said, waving the gavel at the two sides. "This is going to be open to the public, so no shenanigans, you hear me?"

"Yes, Ma'me," said both the prosecution and the defense. They both looked scared of her.

"I'll be watching you two," she threatened, glaring at them with squinting eyes. "He is being held without bail as he is a potential flight risk."

"But Your Honor!"

"No buts, Mister! I'll see you all in one week. Bailiff, call the next case."

* * *

'So this is Sunnydale,' thought Jarlaxle to himself. He was looking out at the bright landscape, lit up in the night's sky. They had arrived at an unnoticed tunnel, the entrance disguised by a boulder. You would never know there was an entrance to a cavern unless you were almost standing in it. 'It's bigger than I expected.'

"So this is where Drizzt lives," muttered Dinin Do'Urden under his breath. "More impressive than I expected. It's nothing like the little isolated human hovels I've seen before. These humans have a little more in the way of civilization."

"Dinin, that is most forward thinking, I'm surprised," the mercenary leader said with a smirk. "Be too clever and I might have to start thinking about your replacement."

"That might be a good idea," Dinin said grimly in a particularly un-Drow-like manner.

"What ever could you mean?"

"I mean that my brother is a demon," Dinin said in a depressed tone.

"How so?"

"He is more skilled than I am by far," Dinin said in a rare moment of honesty. "He outstrips me far beyond my ability to comprehend and he just surrenders to it like an animal defending his territory. He destroyed our sister almost without thinking. I am not looking forward to fighting him again."

"Perhaps you won't need to?"

"No, I will. I don't want to, but I will." The Drow formerly of House Do'Urden paused a long moment. "It is difficult to comprehend the fact that I am going to die soon." He paused again. "No, the comprehension is easy, acceptance is not."

"You have convinced yourself of this?"

"No, the facts convinced me of this."

"How so?"

"I can do one of two things: Face him, which is certain death," Dinin said, his face resigning to fate, "or run away, which means I would be hunted down as a rogue, just as my brother is now." He paused as he saw the bemused look on the mercenary's face. "You're grinning. What?"

"She's got you doing it now too: the rogue has become your brother again," Jarlaxle said with a chuckle. Dinin sighed.

"I AM doomed then," the former weapon master said. His mercenary leader laughed outright at the top of his lungs.

"If Drizzt has you in this kind of mood, I want to meet him more than ever," commented Jarlaxle without an ounce of sarcasm. "What scares you the most about him?"

Dinin thought long and hard about everything he knew about his long lost brother before replying. "His only ambition is personal. There was never a thought of rising up in society at all. He only mastered himself, never anyone else. He outstripped even Zaknafien in that regard." He punched the rock beside him, not hard, but just enough to hurt ever so slightly. "He never had a social ambition in his life. When he became the best in his class, it wasn't because he wanted to be the best in his class, it was because he wanted to better himself FOR himself." He let loose a dry, harsh laugh. "They tricked him once. ONCE! And they never tricked him again, but they always underestimated him. He isn't short or weak; he just chose to not play the game. But by not playing he won every time."

"Why do you think Vierna is so drawn to him?" Jarlaxle pulled out a surface fruit, something the humans called an "apple" and took a big bite. It had a most satisfying crunch.

"There is a bond between them stronger than almost any other bond, or perhaps it is bonds, so many strands wrapped into a rope," Dinin said, taking an offered apple from the mercenary leader. "First of all, they are true siblings with the same father as well as mother. In other terms I would be their elder half-brother. Also Vierna is more like a mother to Drizzt than Malice ever was. She raised him, taught him the power of Drow magics and fed him like mothers of any other race would raise their young. She never coddled him, punishing him with the whip if he made the slightest mistake. Perhaps that is part of his constant goal to better himself, something he continued from that young age."

"That explains rather much, actually," Jarlaxle said. "Oh and you aren't supposed to eat the seeds of these 'apples.' But when concentrated they make a powerful poison."

"Why am I not surprised?" Dinin looked at the apple in his hand, the core exposed to the moonlit air. "Rather like Menzoberranzan: beautiful in appearance and elegant in taste, but deadly at the core."

"Dinin the poet, will wonders never cease," snarked Jarlaxle.

"Meh, it's just the prospect of my impending death catching up with me," Dinin muttered grimly. With a snort he tossed the half eaten apple into the bushes and stalked off into the night. Jarlaxle watched silently as one of his scouts followed the weapon master from a safe distance. After a moment, he turned and walked back into the cavern.

If he had stayed he might have spotted the two figures watching them from another peak, a single humanoid figure with a stalking panther silhouetted against the night sky.

Drizzt watched as the mercenary leader wandered back inside the cavern that lead to the Underdark. He had spotted them two nights ago. One of the scouts had come a little too close to a hidden perimeter camera set up by the SSDF some weeks before. He had been called in and had taken the initiative to inspect the area himself.

The drow scouts had magical trinkets to detect scrying or other types of magic, but they had no skill in the mundane forms of observation utilized by the Sunnydale military. Hidden in rocks, the camera was powered by a battery swapped out weekly, but the images were transmitted regularly to the base. The camera was motion triggered and the sound was such that a scout unfamiliar with the technology could easily mistake it for a snapping twig.

Gwen growled lowly, recognizing the people who kept her a virtual prisoner for centuries. Drizzt stroked her neck, calming her down. Slipping down from his perch, Drizzt pulled out his blaster and checked the reserve power; three quarters power. Enough for seven shots and then he would have to recharge the battery. He knew from personal experience that the drow resistance to magic was useless against the powerful weapons.

No one knew he was out here. He was able to stay hidden and slip through the perimeter easily. Since he knew where the cameras were, he could easily escape detection by the cameras. Gwen didn't care, and would sometimes trigger them on purpose. She seemed to like seeing herself in the printouts. The cat was a little strange at times. Drizzt brought himself back to the issue at hand. Using a pair of binoculars, Drizzt spotted his brother and a scout wandering away from the cave. Three other scouts were in other directions, just barely in hearing distance of each other. If he wanted to take one out, he would have to be fast.

The rogue drow could feel the Hunter want to come out, but Drizzt pushed it back down. This is something that Drizzt would have to do, not the hunter. He wanted to capture one after all, not kill them. After his encounter with his evil-twin, he had developed a few new tactics to deal with his brethren and had brushed up on a few of the old ones.

The first was to come from behind. If they couldn't see your heat, they couldn't attack you. The second was to always take advantage of surprised. And the third? Well that was something he got from some of Xander's comic books. Drizzt might not be a swinging playboy by day, but he thought that some of the tricks Bruce Wayne used could be well adapted to fighting his fellow Drow. He had briefly considered calling himself Bat-Drow, but it just didn't seem to work.

These scouts were good, and they had plenty of experience working together. He glanced over to the south where a SSDF team was scheduled to patrol that night. He was not the only one who had seen the photos. Perhaps they could be used as a distraction if he could manage to keep the Drow force from coming out in their full numbers. He wanted to scare them and that was never an easy thing to do to a superior force.

He saw his chance as his brother wandered further away to relieve himself. As stealthy as his companion, Drizzt followed Gwen through the rubble-strewn valley. The most important part was hiding from the scouts he hadn't spotted. Soon, Drizzt was directly behind his brother's tail. Swooping down, Drizzt pressed the barrel of the blaster into the scout's back and pulled the trigger a moment before the other Drow could send out a warning call. Gwen picked up the Drow in her powerful jaws and ran back towards Sunnydale, just as she had been advised before the fight began. The scout should be out long enough for the panther to deposit him in the Initiative cell. She was careful not to harm him too much, but the scout would be quite sore when he awoke.

Drizzt turned his attention to his elder brother. He remembered the stories of how Dinin's murder of their elder brother had allowed Drizzt to live. In some twisted sense, the brutal Drow standing before him was responsible for Drizzt's life and for all the chaos his existence had brought to Menzoberranzan. Dinin, a warrior before all else, never heard Drizzt approach from behind him. Luck was with Drizzt; the moon was behind them both.

The first thing Dinin noticed was the shadow falling on him. Suddenly alarmed, he pulled the sword at his belt. Spinning around, he saw the shadow grow as the specter of the living demon he had feared for years stood before him. The moon cast its stark shadow on Dinin, but the silhouette turned the already imposing Drizzt into an personification of death and horror. Drizzt said nothing as the sword fell from Dinin's hand.

Petrified, Dinin waited for the fatal and final blow to fall…and it didn't. That scared him more than anything else. The creature that was his brother seemed to tower over him, growing in the brutal silence of the night. Dinin cowered, his madness and fear growing larger than his ingrained Drow superiority complex. The weapon master fell to his knees. He saw the specter of his doom raise an arm and a strange barrel contraption pressed against his chest. There was a sudden pain an instant before blackness consumed everything.

Drizzt looked down at his brother's unconscious body. No way was it that easy! Suddenly nervous, Drizzt glanced around; seeking out the scout he had missed. Seeing nothing, Drizzt quickly picked up the other drow and started back towards the city, keeping to the shadows and staying amongst the cover.

From the cliffs around Sunnydale, Buffy Summers watched Drizzt capture the two drow. She had been wondering what Drizzt had been doing for the past two nights, sneaking out before she came back from her nightly patrol of the cemeteries. She was wearing her favorite pink jacket, the only one thick enough for the colder weather and had been following Drizzt nonchalantly from a short distance. She thought he had noticed her when she had snapped her gum, but Gwen had flicked her ears and that had been the end of it.

She had never really understood the extent of her Slayer powers. She knew that she was able to hide in plain sight easy enough, but it seemed if she didn't want to be seen, she wouldn't be. Just like now. She'd spent the last hour watching Drizzt watch the Drow and she was a little bored. Now that he had taken a couple of the drow scouts, she was considering calling it a night, but there was a part of her that wanted to fight.

Neophyte vamps were few and far between these days now that they were a known threat. People carried crosses, stars of David and whatever holy symbol they used on a regular basis. It was kind of funny, but the spell they used to protect Willow's house from Angelus had called for crosses because the writer of the spell was Christian, not because there was any special effect that only crosses could create. It had kept Angelus out only because they believed that it would. Once that little bit had been cleared up holy symbols were the new jewelry craze. They came in a variety of forms, the single pendant as the most popular, but there were some chains made only of holy symbols. It was a lot harder for a fang face to get a bite when everybody and their brother were wearing a holy symbol around their necks and that made the vamps weak. And weak vamps were easy pickings for the Slayer.

But the Slayer wanted to fight. Buffy wasn't able to kill off the majority of the demons still residing in the town, but she kept feeling them. She'd take out the occasional one-eyed-one-horned-flying-purple-people-eater (what a sight to see), but for the most part she had to reign in the Slayer.

But here was something they, Buffy and the Slayer, could fight. Drow. And by all accounts they were formidable opponents. In moment of poor judgment, Buffy decided to take in a few of the Drow herself. Running down the hill, she threw a rock at one of the guards, trying to distract him, but it had the opposite effect, and attracted the attention of three others.

Buffy had given up the element of surprise and it was now used against her. Now, a Slayer has improved sense over that of a human, but their best sense was only for that of demons. She had better hearing and eyesight than a human or an elf, but her demon sense had no effect on humanoids. Buffy, having fought the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness for so long, had learned to rely on that demon sense far too much.

When the poisoned bolts hit her side, she glanced franticly in the direction they came from. To the west she saw three more drow come pouring out of their hiding places, their swords out of their scabbards and crossbows aimed at her. Pulling the poisoned bolts out of her side, Buffy could feel herself start to fade away, the poison still fairly potent even for the Slayer. With a look of grim determination, Buffy hefted a rock the size of a small child and lobbed it at the approaching drow. She missed them entirely, but the resulting rain of debris slowed them down considerably.

Buffy pulled out her emergency stake from her boot and threw it straight at the first drow she spotted, hitting him just below the ribcage. He wasn't prepared for this and toppled backwards stunned and wounded, but still very much alive.

Buffy squeezed the bolt wounds shut, but it wasn't doing much good. The poison was already in her system and even her Slayer metabolism was having a hard time working through the lethargy provoked by the foreign compound. With a snarl, the Slayer threw a bolt back at the Drow who threw it. It hit him in the shoulder and he winced as he noticed the large amount of poison still on the shaft. By the time he pulled it out, he was already starting to feel the affects. He fell to the ground a moment before Buffy fell herself. The wound was healing, but she would still be out for a time.

Watching from above, Dark Willow contemplated the fate of her friend. Should she save Buffy? Or should she remain an observer until things became truly dire? What would Tara expect her to do?

That answer came easily. Tara would want her to save Buffy.

Teleporting in front of the scouts hefting Buffy back to the cavern, Willow shot a bolt of energy at one of them, only to watch it dissipate. She cocked her head.

"Interesting, you seem to have a powerful resistance to magic," Dark Willow commented. She used the tone one would to say, "the coffee is ready" or "isn't it interesting how covalent bonds form?" The Drow scouts were not amused and quickly fired their crossbows at the hovering witch. Dark Willow simply waved her hand and the bolts melted into puddles on the ground despite the fact they were primarily made of wood. "It is simple enough to deal with you. All I have to do is not target you directly."

Waving a hand and speaking a quick prayer invoking Hecate, the Greek goddess of magic, the air shivered and suddenly the scouts were clawing at their throats. "It seem you cannot breathe mustard gas any better than a human. Tell me, do you burn as easily?"

With that, she spoke an arcane word, and flame burst forth, striking another drow. He himself was not harmed initially, but his clothing did catch fire. The flames rolled over him; his magical resistance useless to the natural fire clawing it's way up to his head. When the clothing was expended, the fire crept up his long hair and continued onto his skin. He died screaming.

The third drow fired again to no affect. Willow simply wiggled her nose at him and the drow suffered an instant concussion as a 100k block materialized above his head and fell. Now there was only one left. He took a look at Willow in all her veiny goodness and took a look at his crushed companion. He hit her with a globe of darkness and wisely ran away.

Willow dispelled the magical darkness with a derisive wave of her hand, but the scout was gone. He would inform his fellows no doubt. Scowling down at Buffy's unconscious form, Dark Willow levitated her sort-of friend and flew away towards the city. Buffy awoke as they were half way there, the hyperactive Slayer healing having repaired the damage she took with no visible scars.

"Ack! Flying!" Buffy said as she watched the ground move beneath her.

"Yes, we are," said Dark Willow as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Ack! Evil Willow!"

"That's not exactly correct," Dark Willow said. Her tone had no emotion, leaving it a stark monotone that disturbed Buffy. "Good and evil are abstracts that have increasingly less importance in the real world. Instead they are labels added to make things more complicated."

"Umm….okay?"

Dark Willow sighed. "I'm not evil, I just…went through a dark period in my life before I was transported here."

"Like what?"

"My girlfriend was killed in front of me by a bullet meant for you," the powerful witch explained. "You were killed by the second volley. I couldn't bring back either of you that time. I took matters into my own hands."

"Wait, girlfriend? Do you mean…?"

"Do I mean that I am gay?" Willow asked. "I suppose it does."

"Oh."

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"Uh, I don't know." Buffy said honestly. "It's a little confusing. All of it."

"To say the least," the witch replied. "In the time after your death I cleaned up Sunnydale."

"Cleaned up?"

"I closed the Hellmouth with the help of Spike and Faith," Willow continued. "They died. The next Slayer to be called was a young woman known as Vi. She lasted three years before Angelus killed her. He had taken control of a demonic law firm known as Wolfram and Hart. They had powerful magical protections, but how we dealt with the Judge and Mayor Wilkins taught me to remember physics and chemistry. I simply diverted a small rain of meteors that destroyed the building. The force of the impact ignited fuel lines and incinerated anything that remained."

"Wait, the Mayor?"

"Yes, it was complicated," Willow said. "With Wolfram and Hart destroyed, I sought out the next Slayer. The Council got in the way and I was forced to deal with them. I was perfectly willing to go the extra mile to ensure the survival of the Slayers. The next was named Sadako and lived in a village outside Kyoto, Japan. She lasted five years, but was drowned in a well. By this point, Giles was not pleased with what I was doing, even if I only had the best in mind for Earth."

"He teamed up with a coven in Devon, England and tried to kill me," Willow explained. "I escaped the first attack, but the second was about to take place when I found myself here."

"You-you killed Angel?"

"Yes, but do try to keep up. It seems it is entirely too easy to remove a soul from a vampire and much harder to return a soul to one," the dark witch replied. "Angelus needed removal. Wesley helped as did others like Gunn and Fred."

"You keep saying names that you seem to think I should know, but I've never heard of them," Buffy said.

"Your timeline diverged before they could come into your life," Willow said in a cold voice. "I see people in Sunnydale every day that were dead in my timeline. It is like walking through a city of ghosts."

"You aren't my Willow," Buffy said, just a little scared.

"No, but I used to be." They flew a while in silence. They paused in midair as the Dark Willow paused to gather her thoughts. "I think that I had lost too much. Ta-my girlfriend, you, Oz, Spike, Faith, Dawn, Giles, my parents, Sunnydale. Everyone and everything I cared about would die or abandon me. Everything seemed simpler if I didn't worry about the numbers or the casualties. So I didn't. I accomplished so much, but now I question if it was worth it."

Dark Willow lowered them both to the ground outside the vineyard. Buffy turned to her and looked up at the taller woman. "But what about now?"

"I am stuck here as surely as all of you so I will continue to do what I've been doing for years: protect Sunnydale and the Slayer," Willow said flatly in that same haunting monotone.

"Uh, thanks, I think…"

Dark Willow said nothing and few away. Buffy kept feeling her gaze drawn to the building at the center of the vineyard. She shook herself inwardly and started back toward the city proper. Almost back, she paused a moment as a though struck her.

"Wait a minute, she liked Spike? That WAS a freaky world."


	33. Chapter 33

Dinin awoke blinded by light. He had apparently been dumped in a white room, naked. A few articles of clothing (not the ones he was wearing when he had been captured) were piled up next to him. The only view was a flat wall of glass where he could see other rooms like the one he was currently in. He looked at the other occupants: seven goblins, a pair of minotaurs (one male and one female), a small pack of immature hyena-like gnolls and a Drow (turned away from him). Each group was in their own cell and wore the same type of clothing. Well, it was better to be clothed than naked, so Dinin put the offered jumpsuit on. It was disturbing to his Drow eyes, white on white with black fasteners. After a while he figured how to close the strange fastener by pulling up on the tab and the two halves of the clothing connected with a zip. It was something he could have used in the past.

"Acting like a regular slave," a startlingly familiar voice said from the opposite cell. Dinin looked up to see the Drow turn around and the former weapons master gazed into the violet eyes of his brother. "But you were never really that great, were you dear brother?"

Dinin waited a moment before responding. This was so uncharacteristic of the Drizzt he knew that something was wrong. "Drizzt, it's been a long time."

"Longer than you think," said Drizzt he said with a dangerous grin. "But it's…interesting to see you in these circumstances."

"So you are a prisoner of these people as well?"

"Well, something like that." Drizzt grinned. "Think of it as temporary quarters on a campaign."

"What was that thing you hit me with? My entire body went numb."

"That is what these humans affectionately refer to as a blaster or taser. They can't seem to decide on a name," Drizzt explained. "Remarkably effective for a human device."

"Yes, it was."

"So what brings you here? Looking for little old me?"

"Yes, actually. Vierna was sent by Lloth to find you and bring you back to Menzoberranzan," Dinin said.

"Now, now, should you really be giving away that kind of information to a target?"

"Quite frankly, considering the last time we met, I don't really care."

"Yes, the last time we met…You know, I kept the dagger. I never cleaned it and I let the blood rust the blade," Drizzt said in a playfully dangerous tone. "As you fell to the floor dead, I thanked you for allowing me to become First Boy of House Do'Urden. I told Matron Malice that a Narbondellyn houseboy killed you over a mug of human booze. You were forgotten in disgrace."

"The last time we met, you killed our sister and nearly killed me," Dinin corrected him.

"Actually, you two have never met and should never have met," the real Drizzt said, stepping in between them. Dinin looked from one to the other and realized the truth. That other Drizzt, the one in the cell, didn't have the same feel of danger that this new Drizzt emanated. That captured Drizzt felt more like the danger one feels from a mage, not a warrior. And this new Drizzt wore the clothing and weapons that he witnessed in that strange moonlight. He seemed taller, stronger than the one in the prison uniform.

The other inmates noticed it as well. The goblins moved en mass to the back of their cage. The Minotaurs kept their eyes on the strange weapon this new Drizzt kept at his side. Dinin looked over his brother and then at his surreal double in the cell. The new Drizzt interposed himself between the two prisoner drow.

"Dinin, I didn't want to see you again," Drizzt said, his hand moving towards the hilt of his sword. He watched as Dinin's eyes followed the motion.

"I wasn't too keen on the subject either," Dinin stated, keeping up his bravado as much as possible. "But our sister insisted. Having Lloth trash the city when Baenre refused helped too."

"You're lying."

"I have no reason to. Everything I had is gone and it's all thanks to you," Dinin said. "After you left, Malice lost Lloth's favor. Baenre crush our House. Only Vierna and I survived. Vierna was taken into House Baenre and I became a mercenary."

"Then Jarlaxle's group is here as well."

"I never said that."

"You don't have to. There is only one mercenary band that House Baenre deals with," the other Drizzt said from the other cell. "And that is Jarlaxle's band of merry men."

"And Vierna is here as well?"

Dinin sat back, leaning against the back wall. He smiled. "I think I've said enough for now."

"It's easier if you just talk," Drizzt said.

"I've withstood torture before," his older brother said.

"Not like this," said the other Drizzt grimly. Even he had to wince at the prospect.

"This entire floor is designed with the power of a Tongues spell so you will be able to understand every word," Drizzt said, holding up a reflective silver disc. "You can tell me now, or I will be back in one week to ask you again. You will be fed twice a day from a packet that comes from the ceiling. You have as much water as you want by turning the knob and the bowl in the back is for taking care of any bodily functions you might need taken care of. There will be a contingent of guards to give you some exercise each day, but they will have weapons trained on you at all times."

"I suggest you talk now, it just saves trouble in the long run," the other Drizzt stated. "It saves a lot of pain for the rest of us."

"This is your last chance. Make your decision."

"I think I'll wait and see what you are capable of."

Drizzt Do'Urden shrugged and slipped the CD into the drive next to the cell. Originally this was intended to record activity in the cell, but it had been specially modified to project sound as well. "Enjoy a week of prison, Dinin."

As he left, the sounds of Billy Ray Cyrus filled the cell…on repeat.

* * *

"Where is my brother, mercenary?" Vierna demanded, her hands on her hips and her scourge coiled around one hand. The seven heads hissed at the mercenary leader. Jarlaxle, well experienced at being threatened by drow priestesses, refused to flinch.

"The last I him, he was wandering around outside. I've since lost contact with him and the scout I sent after him," Jarlaxle said before biting into another apple. "From the evidence, I would guess he was captured. Probably by your other brother."

"And you are not going after him?"

"No, my job is to look after you, not my own mercenaries. They should be capable of taking care of themselves," he said. "If they cannot, they are no use to me."

"I demand that you bring him back!" Vierna brought up the scourge, prepared to strike as the snake-heads reared. Jarlaxle gave the priestess a dark glare.

"You had better be prepared for the consequences if you attack me," he said in a dangerous tone. He didn't even to have to look to know that his other mercenaries were already pulling out weapons, fully prepared to stab the priestess in the back. She seemed to notice their presence and relaxed her arm. "Better. We need to relocate ourselves. Then we will watch for one more week. At that time we shall make a decision as to our choices, not before."

"Very well," Vierna conceded. The mercenaries packed up the goods, loading up the captives recovered from the Ilithid camp and started out under the cover of an illusion spell cast by one of the mages in Jarlaxle's band. The entire camp was moved in sections to prevent easy tracking. They chose a different cavern, this one partially collapsed by the Initiative after Hellgate Keep's attack the previous summer. By the looks of things, not even animals were using the cavern, a testament to the devastation the arrival of Sunnydale created.

By dawn, the entire camp was moved. Vierna set up a special enchantment of darkness, blocking the sunlight from entering the cave and preventing the drow from being blinded by the light. There they waited for the cover of nightfall.

* * *

In the following week, a number of people had a great deal to think about. Buffy wandered the area where she fought the Drow, only to find they had vanished. She thought about what the Dark Willow had said. It was not easy for her. Dark Willow was willing to break plenty of eggs to get an omelet, even if she had to discard the first few that weren't perfect.

'Yum, omelets. I should get one,' she thought to herself. 'I need to eat more eggy goodness.'

As she wandered the area, she was confused by what the Dark Willow said. There was no good or evil. That scared Buffy more than most would know. In her previous incarnation, she had seen what it was like to be a hardliner on the war against the darkness. Dark Willow showed a different side that was equally terrifying. Where would Buffy stand, her power still growing and her control no better than it was on Earth?

It scared her. Her power was increasing everyday. She was getting better, faster, stronger. She discovered she could leap up to a second story window. Soon she would be able to hop from roof to roof without any trouble. She was faster too, having outrun a horse at full gallop. And her senses were increasing and changing. She knew where every demon, full half or planetouched was in Sunnydale proper. She found she could differentiate between them and almost know the individual if she was familiar with them.

The questions remained: Was she becoming some kind of Super-Girl knock off or was she more demon than ever before? Where was her power coming from? Where would it take her? What happened when she finally lost control? As she sprinted back to Sunnydale, she pondered the possible answers.

* * *

"Now, I will prove that my defendant was within his rights *burp* to hunt down Do'gurgen. He's a member of the Bounty Hunter's guild in Port Llast and he really knows what he's doing when it's coming to that kind of thing. Oh, and Do'gurgen's a dog beater. That's all I've got," said the public defender.

"Mr. Lathrop, may I remind you that the prosecution gives their opening statements first," stated the Judge. "I'm holding you in contempt of court for appearing in this court room drunk. Sober up in the tank. We'll try this again tomorrow at noon. Jury, you will ignore everything that drunk just said."

* * *

Ever since Drizzt had captured his brother and the scout, he had run over the events since he left Menzoberranzan in his head. He had been the Hunter, little more than a wild beast for a decade. This had changed later on with the events with the deep gnomes and his subsequent capture by the mind flayers. Now, not even a year after he had left the ilithid city, he was welcomed with open arms to by a people just as new to the Realms as he was. And he was respected for what he could do, but he was allowed to become what he wanted, not what his society had laid out for him. But his people were back.

Dinin and Vierna; by Dinin's account they were the only blood kin he had left. Drizzt was not sure how he felt about that. Should he be happy to still have family? Especially a sister like Vierna? Or a brother like Dinin? Or should he shed himself of all vestiges of his old life? Every time he thought he had made up his mind, something happened to change it. It was like that song Giles had played for him: "Should I stay or should I go?"

Where did he belong?

He also found himself in a very strange position for a Drow: having power over an older sibling with that sibling still alive. Normally, family power was passed on by the deaths of the older siblings, allowing for the younger children to head to the forefront of the House, only to have the same process used against them later on. But with Dinin, Drizzt knew he held the power; he had control over the situation and Dinin was clearly afraid of him, visibly afraid. In normal Drow society that sign of weakness would have been stamped out as soon as it shown. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

* * *

Giles looked out at the edge of the Sunnydale Plateau, as they had started calling it, the last flat place in the region, by local accounts. Buffy had left ten minutes ago and she was already headed back. She was running full out and he was having a hard time tracking her with the binoculars.

She would be turning 18 soon. That scared him. He knew what normally happened when a Slayer became 18. He just hoped she didn't. He had determined that he would never go through the Crucimentium, but there was always the possibility that Buffy would die. Would there be another Slayer after her on this new world?

People were criticizing his decision to still train Buffy. Some criticized the time it took for him to train with her. Others criticized that he was no longer able to train her at all, that she had surpassed him. He was starting to believe it was true. He needed to find a new trainer for Buffy, someone who could harness her power and keep her alive.

He had admitted it to himself, but not out loud, but he thought of Buffy Summers as more than just a Slayer or a student. She was the closest he would ever have to having a child. The thought of loosing her terrified him more than he wanted to admit. Perhaps he could explain himself to the girl before it was too late.

He was also lost when it came to the organization of the Initiative. It had always been a semi-military organization even before the Shift, but they had been deeply rooted in the Science of demonology instead of the more arcane side of things. He had been a Watcher for years, long before he had been assigned to Buffy. He had worked in the British Museum and had been a librarian for years. After his rather troubled youth of course. But he had never been the new person in charge of a transition such as what the Initiative was going through.

He spent his days sorting through capture reports, interviews with possible new employees and dealing with the creatures and people they captured. He was unable to return to his position as a high school librarian as he had to oversee the training of over a hundred agents in a new method of demonology. Experience had made it clear to most Agents that "shoot first" usually meant "get clawed second." These were the easy ones to train as they easily went deep into the books to research the origins of the creatures they encounter.

Giles had lost most of the scientists to other more pressing projects, but he had been able to retain a core of dedicated scientists and their assistants. They were just as willing to acknowledge the importance of Research. Yes, with a capital R.

Their primary job was sorting out information into other formats. As much as Giles hated computers, he was forced to look at the advantages of having an easily searchable index beyond "let's try here" as was done before. Now demons and other beasts were described by phenotype and were searchable from there. Each entry also contained the Traditional name (ie. What Giles calls it) and the Scientific name (ie. What the Initiative scientists called it). It eliminated much confusion. Best of all, the lack of use kept Giles' books in top condition. He had his own private library now. It was wonderful.

His next problem was dealing with the captured creatures. As the Initiative had the most secure location aside from the Base, the most powerful or dangerous creatures were sent to the Initiative for observation before releasing or eliminating the creature. He currently had a full load for review and it had to be done soon or there would be no room to put new creatures.

At least his "Adopt a Wyrmling" program was taking off. Instead of killing the tiny dragons, they had set them up with special families and organizations for the purposes of raising them with a respect for humans as opposed to seeing them as food. Most that they found were the size of cats or dogs, but a few were as big as the average human. It was good that they didn't eat any more than the average American. Several were actually planning on attending school. (Housecraft's people were not pleased to hear about this, citing something about "wyrms in bed with our daughters or some such.")

Some creatures had been released into the wild after review. Most of these had been sprites or fey stirred up by the Shift. Others were simply bizarre creatures like winged snakes and cats. There was one strange kind of dog that actually climbed trees and another that could teleport short distances. This latter kind was known as a Blink Dog and was quite intelligent for all that they looked like dingos, (much to the band's amusement). The blink dogs weren't so much released as the Sunnydalers stopped trying to catch them. It's hard to imprison something that can teleport almost at will. Rumors were the canines were still hanging around town occasionally pretending to be pets.

More troublesome were the wererats. These had invaded and were spotted only by accident. An Agent had fallen on one and cracked the skull open. When the lycanthrope had died, it had returned to its human form. They then went on a rat hunt, tranking and tasing as many as they could. Most left after being informed of the high vampire population, but Giles knew a few remained. He also knew that wererats, unlike werewolves, retained their human minds even in their animal form. This could cause more problems, but could be advantageous with the Mayor's plan for a Special Forces team made up of supernaturals and mages. He described them as akin to the adventuring bands seen in other parts of the Realms.

Other creatures were still waiting to go through the process. There were twelve minotaurs, three of which were pregnant; twenty-seven goblins (the three blue ones, four red ones and the rest were green with one that talked in a strange syntax even when translated); five gnolls (things that look like a cross between a hyena and a human, Xander was creeped out by them); thirty worgs (large intelligent wolves) most of the adult females were either pregnant or having recently given birth (a full third of the worgs were new births); a were-basilisk (the lizard, not the creature that turned people to stone); and a herd of mammoths.

Absently, Giles pondered what the proper collective noun for a group of mammoths would be.

These were all being fed by rations brought in from other lands by Sunnydale's allies: Silverymoon and the Zhentarim who were ironically opposed to each other. Sunnydale never would have survived if it were not for the help of these two nations. But it would time to pay the toll taker soon enough. Neither nation knew that Sunnydale was using the rations to feed Giles didn't know what they could do to repay the two nations and they would soon want payment.

* * *

After the first few days of the audio torture, the only thing Dinin could think about was an end to the pain of "Achy Breaky Heart." Drizzt swapped it out for the "Worst of Thursday Night Karaoke at the Bronze" on the third day without saying a word. That brief time it took to change discs was a blessing to Dinin's ears.

* * *

The Next Day

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury," began the prosecutor, "Here before us we have a man who attacked an injured man without provocation. But this is more than that. McGristle hunted Drizzt Do'Urden across mountains and valleys, across nations, looking for revenge. With expert testimony, we will prove not only that McGristle acted on his own volition and attacked Drizzt Do'Urden, but we will show that he did so for no reason other than clear cut racism. The attack on Mr. Do'Urden is not only unwarranted, but is a hate crime against a minority. And under Sunnydale law, a hate crime is seen as a greater offense than normal.

"Now, some of you might wonder why or how the two of them crossed paths. We will show the events up to their interaction the first time they met and the subsequent conflicts. We will show you how Mr. McGristle racially profiled and persecuted Drizzt Do'Urden simply for the way he was born. After their initial confrontation, which Mr. Do'Urden wisely escaped from and left to prevent further conflict, McGristle hunted and even tried to raise up a lynch mob to assist him. These individuals, whom you will meet, will testify that they were there simply for the investigation and that investigation quickly removed Mr. Do'Urden as a suspect and had actually dispatched the real perpetrators. You will also see through eyewitness testimony how dark and twisted McGristle became after this was revealed…"

The now sober defense attorney stood up after the prosecution sat down and looked at the jury and then at the judge and then at McGristle. "My client did in fact attack Mr. Do'Urden. We do not deny this fact. But he was under the impression that he was hunting down a dangerous criminal guilty of killing a farming family. The same Drow had also maimed him previously when Do'Urden killed my client's dog. As far as he was concerned, he was protecting innocent people. Drizzt Do'Urden had murdered an innocent couple and their children, ages 6 to 15 ruthlessly and had done so only for pleasure. The Drow's weapon was found at the scene of the crime and experts were brought in to assist my client. These experts agreed with the evidence. We will prove that his actions were just in the eyes of the laws he was operating under. He had no reason to believe that a new nation has sprung up and that the laws had changed. For all he knew, a couple of mages had just fought a battle and they were caught in the backlash. As far as he was concerned, he was operating as a member of law enforcement…"

* * *

Xander was working harder than he ever had before. He was in school a full day and then became an errand boy between the Initiative and the Sunnydale Self Defense Force (SSDF), as the military base had been renamed. It was quickly apparent that the memories he had of Holiday soldiering were not up to snuff. So now was he not only studying for school (which both Willow and Cordelia had forced him to do on his own, but for very different reasons), he was the sole member of an accidental ROTC-light program that Giles had signed him up for.

He was not a soldier, but it seemed he now knew everything the average soldier was required to know. How to stand, how to dress, how to observe the battlefield. He had needed to relearn a great amount about everything military since things had changed in the last thirty years.

But he was still not directly part of the military. He kept his hair in his normal style and wore his normal clothing (much to Cordelia's chagrin) while working at both the Base and the Initiative. He was getting familiar with how both organizations were working things out.

In the military there were old rivalries between the former branches of the military. Everyone was having a hard time with the blending and restructuring of the branches. There was simply no need to have a Navy anymore. The Air Force was grounded temporarily and the Army was almost out of bullets. Everything had been combined into one branch with two divisions: land and air. Xander found himself sorting out all these things and occasionally in the middle of them. This was especially true when the members of the Initiative started talking about their previous allegiances in the US military prior to their placement on the formerly top secret project. When these things started to spring up, Xander wisely stepped out of the line of fire.

He avoided his double. It was weird enough to have someone who was practically a twin, but to have that person be the opposite, was even stranger. At this point they had both agreed to disagree on everything except for comic books. Their lives were identical up until Halloween and their formative years were so closely tied together, but that one day had made their paths diverge so quickly.

At this point he was wondering where he stood on so many things. His parents didn't understand what he did, but he hardly ever saw them. They had been forced to clean up their act after the booze ran out, but "I need a drink" was still their favorite phrase. Tony was out working again in a steady job and his mother was involved in a few of the other organizations. She was actually using her college degree after about twenty-five years. In a way Xander was both proud and disgusted with them. On one hand, they had cleaned up their act, but on the other it had taken Sunnydale being transported to another world in order for them to do so. Should he ignore that part?

His relationship with Willow was becoming strained. They had been so close for years, the two of them and Jesse, but now Willow had her magic friends and Xander was spending more time with the military on their off times when he wasn't visiting Cordelia. It wasn't that he was upset for Willow having friends with similar interests, but he still wanted a part of her to remain the girl with the yellow crayon. But he wondered if she was feeling the same way; was he changing just as much?

He was going to have to plan a night off soon, something with Willow, Buffy and Drizzt. He wanted to try and reconnect with them more before they strayed too far apart. They were more like family to him than his real family. Maybe he could get Giles and Joyce to come along as well. A picnic or something, well not a picnic because that would be cold in the Nether Mountains during winter, but something.

* * *

Willow thought about her new friends in the Magic Club at school. They were a strange group to most people. They had almost nothing in common except the magic club. Some were girls, some were boys. Some weren't even human and two didn't even look human. It was strange. A year ago, she was just trying to survive Spike, Drusilla and Angelus. Now it was the town itself that was trying to survive. Her magic was getting better, much better than it had been when she had cast the spell reuniting Angel's soul with his body and she was keenly aware that some of her magic teachers were more than a little scared that she was having such an easy time of it.

She sometimes wondered why it came easy to her. She just didn't know. It wasn't like she was some kind of demon or anything like that, but it just…it just happened. This seemed to be what she was meant to do. Or something like that. Prophesy being bad and all that.

One thing was for sure: the Scooby Gang would never be the same. Buffy was still doing Slayer-Stuff ™ but she was doing most of it with Drizzt, the only person in Sunnydale who could keep up; Xander was doing his whole army-guy routine; and Giles of all people was the head of a government organization. Oz was gone who knows where.

With her new friends, Willow wondered what was going to happen to her old friends. It scared her more than she was willing to admit aloud.


	34. Chapter 34

"Agent Riley Finn, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you god?"

"I do."

"Would you please describe your occupation for the Court?"

"I am a team leader and second in command of the Initiative, first under Margaret Walsh and now under the command of Rupert Giles of the Watcher's Council."

"What were you doing on the day in question?"

"I was patrolling with my team, looking for evidence as to where we were and what had happened," the Initiative agent said.

"And what did you find there?" the prosecutor asked.

"First we found a lot of nothing, but after that we were attacked by orcs," he answered. "Agent Miller was shot by an arrow and we radioed for assistance."

"Did you do anything to provoke this attack?"

"No, we were not even aware they were near until the first arrows flew," Finn replied. "It wasn't until the orcs decided to close that we really got a good look at them."

"Thank you," the prosecutor said with a smile. "Now what happened after that?"

"Drizzt helped us out," Riley answered.

"How?"

"He attacked the orcs who were attacking us. If it wasn't for him, we would have never survived," Riley said. "He and Gwen (Drizzt's panther friend) were able to keep a number of them occupied so that we were not overrun. That boy's a hero."

"So you would consider him a good person?"

"Yes I would. Drizzt goes above and beyond what he has to do and helps. If there's a fight, he's right along side us helping to protect the town and everyone living here," Agent Finn answered. "Drizzt does what needs to be done and he doesn't even get paid for it. He's more than just an immigrant or a local, or whatever you want to call them. He's a good person who looks out for others without seeking reward or praise. In fact, he'll personally berate himself for not doing more. I haven't known him long, but I'm proud to call him a friend."

"What happened after the orcs attacked?"

"Drizzt and the others helped to drive them off. Then the stone giants attacked. Drizzt was hit in the leg with a boulder. It was broken. Buffy-"

"Buffy Summers, the Slayer?"

"Yes, Buffy Summers ran in and attacked the orcs and later the giants. We didn't know at the time that the giants were just trying to scare off the orcs. She managed to break up the fight."

"What happened after the fight was over?"

"McGristle immediately tried to attack Drizzt. There was no warning, no attempt at capture. He just tried to kill Drizzt with his axe. Buffy hit him in the back of the head with a club and he passed out."

"And he made no attempt at all? Nothing to show that he was an officer of the law or a bounty hunter or anything of the sort?"

"No, he just charged and attacked."

"Thank you Agent Finn," the prosecutor said. Glancing up at the judge, he nodded to her. "No other questions for this witness, your Honor."

The Judge nodded to the defense for cross-examination.

"Now, Agent Finn, what do you know about orcs?"

"Then or now?"

"Now please."

"Orcs have a very strong warrior culture. The males are raised from a very young age to fight and it is a sort of Alpha Male situation with the strongest warrior as the clan leader," Finn replied. "The females are housekeepers and protectors of their young. They will fight and are very good at it, but they tend to only fight defensively."

"Aren't they very territorial?"

"Some clans can be. However, not all are. There are a number of nomadic orc tribes in the North."

"So, you just blundered into their territory and antagonized them."

"That is not how I would describe it," Riley said, his ire growing just a little.

"Did they attack when you entered their territory?"

Riley paused a moment before answering. "…Yes."

"So they considered you to be an invading force."

"I suppose it could be perceived that way."

"Objection your Honor! Agent Finn is not on trial here."

"Sustained. Council, change the line of questioning."

"Of Course, your Honor," the defense attorney replied quickly as if he expected the question.

* * *

Miles to the east, in a still dark canyon, a Sunnydale explorer team went missing.

* * *

"Agent Finn, you said that you consider Drizzt Do'Urden to be a friend," the defense council asked.

"Yes."

"And you said he is a good person, always willing to help out."

"Yes I did."

"Then how do you explain the other Drizzt locked up in the Initiative vaults?"

"Objection!" called out the Prosecutor. "Drizzt's dimensional twin did not know McGristle until they were both incarcerated. This line of questioning has nothing to do with Agent Finn's interaction with Drizzt Do'Urden."

"Actually it has to do with what Mr. Do'Urden is truly capable of," the defense argued.

"Copy Drizzt is a mage, something the original Drizzt was not and is not," the prosecutor shot back. "Comparing them is apples to oranges, your Honor."

"Agent Finn has interacted with both of them and has had a chance to compare them and what both have said about their culture," the Defense countered. "It gives insight into how their culture is perceived in the Realms at large."

"I'll allow it for now, but don't stray too far from the real subject here," the judge cautioned.

"Thank you, your Honor." Turning back to Agent Finn he smiled. "Please answer the question."

"I can't explain the other Drizzt. I am not a physicist or mage or psychologist."

"Then describe him."

"He goes by the same name as Drizzt and looks almost identical. He has a few less scars, suggesting he was magically healed more often. He is a mage and delights in psychological and physical torture."

"So he is not a nice person."

"I would not describe him that way, no."

"But they are the same person, aren't they?"

"Objection! We don't condemn people just because they are related."

"Sustained. Skip it along Council." The Judge was not amused.

"No further questions, your Honor." As soon as the defense sat down, the prosecution glanced at the judge.

"Permission to reexamine the witness, your Honor?"

"Go ahead."

"Agent Finn, you know Drizzt on a personal level, but you only know his dimensional twin on a professional level, right?"

"Objection! Leading the witness."

"Sustained."

"I'll rephrase your honor," the prosecution answered quickly. "Agent Finn, could you please describe your relationship with both Do'Urdens?"

"Drizzt is my friend, the other is a dangerous creature. They aren't the same person at all, even if they do share DNA," Finn said. "It's like comparing sweet corn to cow corn. They look alike but are very different on the inside."

"Thank you, Agent Finn. No further questions, your Honor."

"Call your next witness."

"I would like to call Ambassador Kellindil to the stand."

* * *

Miles to the East, the bodies of the exploration team were found charred. Their equipment was partially melted, almost as if amps of electricity had hit the campsite on a clear day.

* * *

"Ambassador Kellindil, how did you get to know the Defendant and Mr. Do'Urden?"

"When a family was killed, a group was assembled to look into the matter. It was lead by Dove Falconhand and included myself, Gabriel, a human fighter and our dwarven sage friend, Fret. The mayor of the town called us to investigate the murders. He insisted that McGristle accompany us, even though we all protested the decision. They had already heard the stories of Drow in the hills around the farm."

"And your group is experienced in this method of investigation?"

"Yes, we have done this for some time. I've traveled with Lady Falconhand for nearly 80 years and the others for less time, but they are no less skilled in this."

"Your Honor, I would like to have Ambassador Kellindil treated as an Expert into traditional investigation techniques."

"Council, do you have any objections?"

"If I may ask a few questions to ascertain this?"

"Go ahead."

The defense attorney stood up and walked to the bench. "Ambassador, do you have any formal training in the field of forensics or investigation?"

"I am a well trained ranger and have investigated many crimes across the north."

"But you have never been formally trained at a school of forensics or a police academy?"

"Objection! Your Honor, most people do not have formal academies of any subject in this new world, putting the same expectations to Ambassador Kellindil that we would to an old Earth detective is not appropriate. He is an expert in traditional forms of investigation."

"Sustained. Ask a new question Council."

"I'll allow him."

"Go ahead Prosecution."

"Ambassador Kellindil, please describe the crime scene that you found," the prosecutor asked.

"The farm house was typical of the region. The front door had been knocked in. There were three children and two adults all killed with a scimitar."

"The weapon this Drow had been seen using?"

"Yes, and a broken one was found in the farm house; however, it was a little strange."

"How so?"

"The cuts did not look like those of a Drow. They were haphazard and seemed to come only from the same hand, instead of two. Drow are well known for using twin weapons."

"But there could have been an exception?"

"It is possible, but we also found a group of gnolls killed outside the limits of the farm. These strikes were precise and were placed in perfect X strikes. These fit a Drow attack perfectly."

"And how do you have knowledge of how a Drow attacks?"

Kellindil paused a moment, almost as if he didn't like where the questioning was going. "There was an attack years ago in the Moonwood. Drow attacked an elven picnic and slaughtered all but one child. I was among those who rescued the child. My cousin and her lover had a hand in raising the survivor."

"So you know exactly what a drow attack looks like, correct?"

"Yes, unfortunately I do."

"And the comparison to the attack on the farm?"

"The farm was more like a thug with a blade. There was none of the control and directness of a drow attack. There was plenty of ruthlessness, but none of the precision that a drow attacks with."

"Was there anything else about the attack that was not quite clear?"

"Yes, a beam was broken in the ceiling of one room. It was clearly broken by someone pushing up from below as opposed to weight from above or an attack. The beam was as wide as my forearm is long and just as deep. Only something quite large that had massive strength could have done that."

"Could it have been an older crack?"

"No, the town leader said it was new from the day before."

"And what could have made the break, in your expert opinion?"

"An ogre, a mid level fiend, an Ettin or some of the smaller giants. A very large orc with magical strength could have done it."

"Could a drow have done it? Or any kind of Elf?"

"No, it would have been impossible for an elf of any kind to have done that on his own. There were also the problems with the footprints. There was a first set that, while it was the right size for an elf, but they were far too deep as if something very heavy had made them. A second set was found around the area that was the right depth for a drow. These were made long after the attack."

"So, your party had doubts about the attack right from the start?"

"Yes, but the doubts grew when I first met Drizzt. He had been watching us for some time. I think only myself and perhaps Dove noticed him. Our perceptions are sharper than most. One night I was alone on watch and Drizzt stepped out of the shadows. He was unarmed and greeted me. I…I did not take the greeting well and attacked him."

"How did he respond?"

"He didn't counter attack. He conjured a globe of darkness around me and escaped. It was then that I knew he was not a Drow as I had been raised to think of them. A normal Drow would have taken the advantage and struck me from behind. He took the distraction to escape. I'm afraid that he might have formed a poor impression of me."

"How did McGristle act about Drizzt?"

"He would inflate what the Drow had done. He would make up lies about the Drow, who we later knew to be Drizzt, and say he had done crimes all over the North. He made Drizzt out to be mass murder that had been killing people from the Sword Coast to Kara-Tur. But everything came back to his eye and his dog. He didn't want justice for the farm; he wanted revenge for himself. He was a maniac. After a while he stopped even keeping up the pretense that it was for the family."

"And your opinion of the fight?"

"All doubts I might have had vanished. Drizzt could have used the fight as a distraction to escape, but he didn't. He turned around and protected people he had never met and had no reason to trust. Drizzt did not kill those farmers and there was no reason for McGristle to act as he did except hatred and bigotry."

"Thank you Ambassador."

* * *

Closer to Sunnydale, one of the security teams was cut off in mid sentence. They had just reported something flying in from the East. Ten seconds later, the newly installed raid sirens went off in Sunnydale.

* * *

The courtroom was full of confusion. The judge cut through the noise with her gavel. "ORDER! Court is in recess until the crisis is over. Everyone exit the building and get to the closest shelters. Bailiff, take the defendant back to his cell. MOVE PEOPLE!"


	35. Chapter 35

Riley, Graham and Forest ran to the closest entrance to the Initiative. "Giles is inside already. Scouts report it's a flight of dragons," Finn reported having just answered his radio.

"That's not good. The Apaches are grounded and almost out of ammo," Forest said.

"What color?"

"Scouts report blue, but they aren't sure because of the angle of the light and the clear skies," Riley replied to Graham. "This isn't going to be easy. Aren't they supposed to be immune to electricity or is that black dragons?"

"Black and green are acid; blue is electricity; white is cold; red is fire; the others I don't remember," Forest said. "I need to pay attention to briefings better. There are just so many."

"Can't say I disagree," Riley said as they stepped out of the elevator. They were handed equipment from the other teams already on site and suited up right there. "What's the story?"

"Six dragons, four identified as mature adult and one as a young adult. The last one is incredibly massive, reports are Ancient plus," replied another team leader.

"You are to assemble with the Military and are under their command for the duration of the crisis," Giles announced over the intercom. "I expect reports from all team leaders twenty-four hours after the crisis is over. Good luck."

* * *

The Sunnydale Forces were spread out across the growing city to try and maximize the defense with their limited number of personnel. The unfortunate part was that the spots they protected were marked by their presence as the most important. Some additional protection was needed and after some deliberation a few of the new tricks that the Trio had come up with were going to be used. They had developed some conventional weapons as well as a few unconventional weapons as well. However, two of these were to be tested for the first time.

The first was a combination of a magical attack and the usual surface to air missile system. The missiles would use magic to seek out the target, replacing some technological programming with magical enhancement. Upon reaching the target, it would activate a magical trigger that would summon a flight of extra planar beings known as mephits. Although they are technically weak against most targets the missile would be used against, they had the potential to confuse the enemy enough to delay it from hitting any important targets. The missile itself would explode. They weren't sure how well it would do against armored targets since the explosives were made up of road flares and fireworks duct taped together with a soft solder along the outer casing. Fingers were crossed and many developers knocked on wood.

The second was the "laser" that blew up the lab several months before. In theory it could be aimed in the sense that it had a front and a back, but beyond that it wasn't very safe. It was like a giant claymore that had a side that said "face this towards enemy." The device was wisely placed in front of important buildings. It was "aimed" by using duct tape to angle a reflector towards the intended target. It could usually hit the broadside of a barn...a really big barn.

The third was a gun that froze the target. Ironically, it was not actually lethal. The subjects would thaw out after a couple of days as shown by the defrosted mouse living in the walls of the new laboratory. They were not sure if it was going to have any affect on something this large. They had used a large gem discovered in the hoard of the last dragon that attacked as the magical focus.

* * *

The attacking dragons were the Morueme Blue Dragon Clan. Unlike most dragons of the North, these dragons were not solitary, but a highly skilled and experienced family of dragons. Each was a skilled sorcerer and had experienced many battles. These were no spring chickens when it came to raids on cities, although the last bit of civilization to be destroyed was an orc village on the other side of the Nether Mountains and that was several centuries ago.

Had the circumstances been any different, they would have waited to attack Sunnydale, but that year had been harsh. In a normal year, game would have been plentiful, with forests and deserts to plunder for their herd animals. However, the coming of Sunnydale had destroyed more than just forests. The inhabitants had faired no better, and thousands of animals had perished in the disaster that brought Sunnydale to Faerun. The dragons' side of the Nether Mountains had survived better than most places, but they had still been forced to devour their hobgoblin slaves. Seven months later game and slaves were gone and there is little that can deter a starving flight of dragons.

The ancient Kizilpazar was the leader of the dragon clan, having claimed the right many centuries past. His mate was his third, the first two killed when they displeased him. She was centuries younger than his offspring, two mature adults with their own mates. His grand-wyrmlings remained back in the caverns, although they too were starving.

Sunnydale seemed ripe for the picking. He had frequently scryed upon the fledgling nation and it had no walls and no guards as he could see it. Their warriors refused armor, choosing speed instead, but that was no problem for a flight of dragons. Lightning would cut through them easily, allow his clan to replenish their food and their slaves. This Sunnydale also looked rich and Kizilpazar was not adverse to adding to his personal hoard. His clan members could have the remainders.

He stayed well out of arrow range, circling around the city, pondering which target to take first. He chose to first confuse them, casting his spells upon them. Unlike many sorcerers, he did not choose spells that merely dealt damage to the enemies. Instead he chose others that would disrupt his opponents' organization. He swooped low, seeming to enter their weapons' range. Instead he cast a spell upon them, immobilizing the humans in place, unable to act at all. His next action electrified them with one deep breath. Humans taste better that way.

Nahaunglaroth, the elder of Kizilpazar's two offspring, chose to attack from the north. He was a skilled sorcerer as well, though not as powerful as his father. He turned himself invisible for a time, appearing to come from the west. Hidden from their sight, he glided around to the north and struck down with his lightning breath, hitting a number of strange metal carts. It seemed to have little effect save for eliciting delightful screams.

However, Nahaunglaroth was not as experienced as his father, nor as cautious. When the metal carts made no response, he ignored them. This was to be the start of his fall. He heard an explosion from behind him and to his detriment, he assumed it was a house or cart starting on fire as they often did in raids. However this was not only an explosion, but also the only sign that a small missile had been launched. He never saw the three young men cheer as their creation flew up into the sky and locked onto the massive target. When the acid mephits swarmed about his face, he tried to outdistance them, but two managed to squirt their acid onto the dragon's eyes and muzzle, partially obscuring his vision. The missile hit him squarely in the collarbone, hitting one of the more sensitive spots on a dragon's skeleton. Although the damage caused was moderate, the explosion disrupted his flight, sending the dragon careening into the new settlement on the western ridge. It was a stroke of luck, but the dragon managed not to fall on one of the new constructions. At that speed, even his tough dragon hide would not have protected him from the impact into steel girders.

His mate swooped into protect him from the air, but made the mistake of glancing at a bright reflection coming from one of the roofs. A short redhaired girl held a tiny mirror out in front of her as if it would ward the dragons off. The moment the dragon made eye contact with it and spotted her reflection within, the magic of the compact activated, pulling in the dragon with terrible force. The red haired girl snapped the compact shut and hopped from roof to roof towards the fallen dragon. She was not the first person to reach the fallen Nahaunglaroth. Instead a strange black and white bear bounced along and stabbed the dragon in the eye with his claws. Finally blinded, the dragon roared and struggled to his feet.

From above Sunnydale, Kizilpazar snorted his disgust at his fallen offspring. Nahaunglaroth was not that young and should have known better. The younger dragon shook as the acid mephits swarmed him, their acidic breath slowly but surely melting away the thick dragon hide. The ancient dragon had to suppress a wince as the strangely colored bear delivered the killing blow, ripping out his offspring's throat. He hoped that Raraurim would fair better.

The younger offspring was not as arrogant, having taken a perch on the cliffs of the mountain overlooking Sunnydale with his mate. He chose his target carefully, but not dispassionately. Having seen his brother so brutally killed and sister-in-law vanish instantly, he was not about to let such a threat go unchallenged. He was a fool to fall for the bait. Casting a spell to levitate objects, he picked up a boulder and tossing it at the human and her pet. He knew not what kind of beast could deliver such blows. The boulders missed as the two targets proved much more agile than first believed. The boulders were large enough to leave craters where they fell, destroying several new buildings in the area.

Having noticed the effect when a reflection distracted his sister-in-law, he and Faenphaele flinched away when a second mirror was turned their way. They should have taken flight. Only a few moments after the mirror lit them up, a massive burst of fire seared the membranes on their wings and charred their hides. Their wings were left as limp bones and cooked flesh. The pain was unbearable and they roared, not even noticing when the attacking device exploded and the searing stopped less than a second later. Without the ability to fly they were little more than sitting ducks that could breath lightning. Cracked and brittle from the sudden heat in the December cold, the cliff around them shattered, tumbling boulders, dragons, melt and snow down the side of the mountain into one deadly path.

Kizilpazar was willing to admit he had been arrogant in attacking so abruptly. He had underestimated the humans and that had cost him his clan. The intelligent thing to do would be turn and run. That would be the wise thing to do, but blue dragons are as stubborn as they are dangerous. Only a coward ran from battle. Kizilpazar acknowledged the perceived threat the weapons on the ground posed and cast a spell of invisibility on himself. This was more powerful than that used by his eldest and would allow him to cast and attack without the spell falling. His mate cast a similar spell on herself using a wand.

There was a small walled compound on the edge of Sunnydale, swooping down towards where the city's warriors seemed to be housed. He knew he only had a few precious seconds before the spell ended and he was vulnerable to attack once more. Where he had expected to find a hundred archers, he found an empty base. Confused, he let his invisibility spell expire, never even noticing a tiny red dot appear on his hide. There was a sudden shock as a single soldier popped out of hiding and targeted the ancient dragon with a shoulder missile, hitting the massive target easily, but the wound was minimal. He dove out of the way as soon as the dragon turned to face him. Kizilpazar landed within reach of the human only to see a hundred orcs in green camouflage clothing prepared to hack at his flanks. The majority of their blows bounced off his tough hide, but a few struck deep into his flesh. They had tricked him. ORCS had tricked him. The ancient dragon swung his head from side to side, electrifying the orcs in a wide, strafing arch with his breath. These orcs were well trained, much more so than the orcs Kizilpazar was used to. Almost as one, the orcs dove into a carefully prepared trench that prepared cover from his attack.

Two orcs died.

ONLY TWO!

Kizilpazar, the Lord and Patriarch of the Moruene Dragon Clan, Ancient Blue Dragon, snarled his rage and raked a claw through the trench only to find it empty. He stuck his head into the trench only to see a series of tunnels allowing the orcs to escape. He had been led into a trap and he had fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

He heard steps on the ground behind him and glanced around to see a small human female with yellow hair standing on a perch level with his head. She said something in a rude tone that he couldn't understand. She put a device up to her shoulder and pressed a lever. He suddenly felt his wings burn with horrid cold. Surprised and shocked, he spun his head around to see his wing joints frozen solid. He tried to move them, but the motion only made the frozen flesh crack, sending pain rippling down his spine. If dragons cried from pain, he would have been doing so now. The blond girl jumped onto his back and ran up his neck. He tried to shake her off, but the motion only cracked his frozen flesh further. Roaring in pain, he watched as the female pulled out an axe and hacked down at his neck with strength she should not have possessed. He heard the other humans call out and saw the shadow of his mate fly over and snatch up the yellow haired female in her mouth. The axe fell from the female's grip as she was swallowed whole. The other humans wisely ran away as he prepared to breath on them once more.

Flying away with what she thought was a meal, Idrizraele abandoned her mate. She was prepared to lay her eggs and she could raise the wyrmlings in the cavern as her own. There were other meals. She would never bother Sunnydale again. How right she was.

In mid flight, she buckled from a pain inside her neck. The female was still alive. The pain came back, harder and more frequent this time. For the first time in her existence, she felt a bone break from the inside as the female fought her way out from inside the dragon's gizzard. The dragon struggled in vain to induce vomiting as another blow broke another of her vertebrae. The final blow she felt came as her spinal cord was broken. Unable to control or even feel her body any more, Idrizraele careened out of her controlled flight, falling into a frozen lake. The force of her fall combined with her girth cracked the ice bringing her and the would-be meal into its icy depths. Cold turned to heat as she hit one of the geothermal pockets under the cold water. The final force of hitting the bottom forced the last bit of air from her lungs and the dragon's mouth filled with water.

* * *

The moment the dragon's mouth closed over her, Buffy knew she was in trouble. She was never going to get that smell out of her jacket. And it was brand new too.

The dragon plan had worked. Soon after the first dragon attack the SSDF (Sunnydale Self Defense Force) had gone through the combat with a fine-toothed comb. They looked at all possibilities and angles, watching the press footage and that from the helicopters over and over. They also asked the locals about the dragons and formulated a psychological profile of the various major dragons in the region. The Moruene Clan topped the list since they were the closest and one of the most active flights in the North.

Blue dragons as a whole are arrogant, but these had been greatly unopposed for centuries and that would make them even more so. Kizilpazar was the primary target, being lured into an easy meal, only to find it was a trap. The younger Moruenes were just as arrogant, but were even less experienced, if you can call something 400 years old inexperienced. The profiles had detailed every known place the clan had hit in the last twenty years. After adding in all the data, the SSDF had formulated a plan that would take advantage of these weaknesses.

The basic plan in case of a dragon attack was to limit the possible targets. Instead of having a massive number of places to choose from, Sunnydale would choose where the dragons attacked. Since the electricity had to be rerouted for the new position of the dam and geothermal plants, it was decided to turn the maze of tunnels into a series of connected raid bunkers. Non-combatants would escape to a bunker in the case of an attack. They were linked, but were capable of being locked from both sides in case something made its way into one. Giles got the idea from his father's stories of London during the Blitz and it had worked. Thirty-six casualties instead of thousands.

Everyone was still surprised that the Trio's experiments actually worked. They needed refining, there was no debate on that part, no one wanted to remodel the landscape every time there was a dragon attack, but the weapons had definite potential.

And then Buffy was swallowed by a dragon. It was remarkably dry for being swallowed, but when you breath electricity it must evaporate any saliva. "But still, yuck! And there's the gizzard. Let's pass on going through that."

So Buffy started punching the walls of the esophagus with an urgency that anyone would have after being swallowed by a dragon. And Buffy hit hard. When the wall of the throat broke it started splashing her with blood, which was always gross, but better than ytharic blood or gnarly-throat, or however you say its name. Also, it's really hard to tell up and down in the throat of a dragon. Oh, that's bone. Punch Buffy! CRACK! Okay, that's going well. Let's do that again. CRACK! Oops, is everything supposed to go limp? I mean, this is the first time I've ever been swallowed, so I don't really know. Okay, now let's break through the skin. Oh, we're flying.

Correct that. We were flying; now we're falling. Right into water. Why do I always have to fall in every time I fight a dragon. Okay, cold winter water means deep breath for Buffy before we hit. Owe, that's cold and it kinda hurts. I really should have busted out a bigger hole in this thing. Owie! My leg's stuck! Oh, hot, hot, hot! That's a hotspring! Oh, goodie, now we're heading back to the surface. Air! Yay! Wow, we're a long way's from the town. Now I get to die from hypothermia instead of being dragon-ate. Less enthusiastic and more sarcastic yay this time.

OOO! Big ole dragon has something in the hand-claw, the hand/claw thingy. Oo! It's a wand. I wonder what it does. I'll just wave it around and bibbity-bobbity-boo! Great Buffy, now you're soaking wet, sitting on a dragon in the middle of lake Sunnydale and invisible so people can't find you before you freeze to death. That was really smart. Oh, it only lasts a few seconds.

Oh, people! Wave to the people and hope they have a boat that will go in this choppy sort-of frozen water.

* * *

On the shore, the other Scoobies watched Buffy's antics as they waited for the rubber dingy to inflate.

"Do you think Buffy knows it's us?" Xander asked.

"Nope," Willow said, stretching her neck to get a better look at the dragon. Peeking from behind Xander she glanced at the sky. "I wonder if you can eat dragon?"

Xander, Giles and Drizzt looked at her like she was crazy. Willow just shrugged.

"Well, that's a lot of animal. I just don't want to see it go to waste," Willow explained. "And we could use the food."

"I suppose it's possible. I will-ah-consult my books for recipes for-ah-dragon," Giles said, straightening his glasses. "Perhaps we should focus on rescuing Buffy for now."

* * *

By this time Dinin had had enough of Billy Ray Cyrus, Karaoke, and the three other CDs Drizzt played. He had to admit that it was a powerful form of torture, simply mental with no possibility of physically harming the target. The irony of the situation was that Dinin had already given up. The moment he acknowledged that Drizzt could easily kill him, he had lost the will to fight. What was the point?

When Drizzt finally came to shut off the music, the elder Do'Urden sat quietly in the cell, awaiting his judgment. Drizzt punched in a key code on the cell and a moment later the door slid open. From that moment onward, Drizzt never let his blaster stray from Dinin. He was clearly taking no chances. Dinin, dressed only in his white jumpsuit, raised his hands in the air and waited for Drizzt to circle around behind him. Only then did Dinin start to walk out the cell.

They didn't speak while they walked save for Drizzt directing his brother left or right. Other inmates and several Initiative Agents watched the precautions Drizzt took and the procession to the interrogation room with deep interest. They walked into another room, this one made entirely out of metal right down to the chair.

"Sit," Drizzt commanded. Dinin sat. Drizzt started pacing about the room, but he never let his eyes leave his brother. "Dinin, why are you here?"

"Vierna made me come," Dinin said truthfully. "I didn't want to come because I have this problem with dying. I just don't really want to do it."

"And you think I would kill you?"

"I know you can, I am not as sure why you chose not to," the former weapons master said. "The old you, the one that killed our sister? That Drizzt would have killed me in a second. What happened to him?"

"Ten years is a long time, even for a Drow," Drizzt said, not really answering.

"Actually, I think he was sitting in a cell across from me," Dinin said. "The Drizzt that could have been if you only followed the rules."

"If I had followed the rules, you would be long since dead, Dinin," the younger Do'Urden stated flatly. In Drow society, it was simple truth that the younger brother would have wanted to become the Elder brother soon enough and there was only way for that to happen: the older brother needed to die. Sometimes (usually) that older brother needed help dying. It was a vicious cycle that would only repeat itself when a new younger brother was born and grew old enough to plot. Dinin sighed. "I actually have accepted the inevitable. You will one day kill me. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday and I will only know it after you have done the deed."

"If I was truly akin to Menzoberranzan, that would be considered high praise, if rather uncouth to speak aloud," Drizzt said. Drizzt leaned forward on the table. "What does Vierna want with me?"

"She seems to think that you can help restart House Do'Urden," Dinin said, fully speaking the truth.

"Then she is crazy," Drizzt replied. Dinin cackled slightly and smirked, as he was wont to do.

"Oh, it's much worse than you think," Dinin snarked. "She seems to have affection towards you, Drizzt. She's been speaking to Lloth, or whatever other creature of the planes is speaking to her, and she's decided this is a Holy Mission and that House Do'Urden starts wherever you are. She isn't coming FOR you, she's coming TO you. Congratulations. You're the new Weapons Master."

"Who did she bring with her? How big is the army? Who supplied it? Was it Baenre?"

Dinin jumped back at the sudden firing of questions.

"She's got Bregan D'arth and Jarlaxle," Dinin said. "There is no army, Baenre refused to lend one. My guess is they're saving it for a special target, I'm assuming that's Blingdenstone. She does have a collection of slaves from the old Illithid city you and your father destroyed."

"That was not Zaknafien," Drizzt said through gritted teeth. He was very close to loosing his self-control.

"The Zin-Carla then," Dinin said, throwing his arms up in the air in defeat. "It was the path we followed. What happened in that place? There were quite a few drow living there."

"There were Mind Flayers," Drizzt said simply. "They died."

"Something tells me there was more to it than that," Dinin said with his trademark smirk. "A few of those young drow look suspiciously like members of House Do'Urden. Did the Illithids have a little slave breeding ground? Did you enjoy yourself?"

Drizzt spun around and knocked on the door to the interrogation room.

"I'm done," he said to the guard posted on the other side. The door opened up and Drizzt walked out. A while later, a middle aged human male walked in and sat down at the other side of the table. He opened up a yellow folder, revealing a series of pictures more accurate than any artist Dinin had ever seen. They were disturbingly lifelike.

"Hello Mr. Do'Urden," the man said. "I am Rupert Giles."

Dinin didn't recognize the name and said nothing.

"I understand you were tortured for the last week. I can assure you that had I known of it, you would have been in a different situation," Giles said, not saying what that other situation would have been. He took the pictures and set them out from left to right across the table. "But even so, we would like some information. I want names and ranks for all of these people. I want to know what they do, who they grew up with, where they live, what they like to do for fun. I want to know everything about these people. I want to know who their mother's slept with in the past ten years. I want to know who they slept with and any rumors about them." Giles looked at Dinin like it was obvious that Giles would get what he wanted. "I want to know these things and you are going to tell me. After that, you will tell me more."

Dinin did.


	36. Chapter 36

"We will now start back up where we left off," said the judge. She turned to Kellindil who sat in the witness chair. "Ambassador Kellindil, you understand that you are still under oath?" The elf nodded. Satisfied, the judge glanced back over to the public defender. "Defense, you have the floor."

"Ambassador Kellindil, you are from Moonwood, is that correct?"

"Yes, I have been chosen to represent them when dealing with Sunnydale," the blond elf replied.

"And you mentioned observing the aftermath of the Drow attack there some twenty years ago, am I right?"

"Yes."

"Now who was responsible for that attack?"

"Objection! Relevancy!"

"I can assure you and the court that this is relevant if you just let me continue," the public defender argued. The judge didn't look totally convinced.

"I'll allow it, but it had better be cleared up soon."

"Oh, it will," the attorney assured her. He turned back to Kellindil. "Answer the question please." Kellindil paused a moment before answering.

"Drow from Menzoberranzan."

"And how do you know that?"

"…"

"Answer the question," the judge cautioned. The Moonwood ambassador looked like he just had a tooth pulled without anesthesia.

"Because the one survivor identified someone who was there."

"And who was that someone?" asked the defender. Kellindil almost growled in anger, but he didn't reply. The public defender leaned forward and grinned menacingly in the Ambassador's face. "Answer the question."

"…Drizzt Do'Urden, but-"

"No further use for this witness." The defense attorney said, sauntering back to his desk. The crowd was shocked at the announcement. There was a sense of fear at the announcement, and coming from someone who held such respect in the diplomatic community of Sunnydale people believed what the defense had implied. The DA stood up.

"Your Honor? Permission to examine the witness?"

"Granted."

The DA looked right at the ambassador. Kellindil looked like he had just betrayed a friend's trust forever. "Ambassador Kellindil, do you know why Drizzt Do'Urden was there?"

"Not exactly, but I do know he protected Ellifaine from being killed," the elf answered.

"And how do you know this?"

"Two reasons: one is because Ellifaine is still alive. She wouldn't be if someone hadn't protected her. The second is that Drizzt explained the situation."

"And you believe him?"

"Yes. More than that, I trust him. I consider him a friend now," Kellindil replied, his confidence returning.

"Thank you Ambassador." The DA sat down just as the defense was standing back up.

"Your Honor?"

"Go ahead council," she replied with a sigh. The public defender sauntered up to the witness seat and gave the elf a smarmy smile.

"And did little Ellifaine tell you Drizzt saved her?" There was an audible grinding of elven teeth before the question was answered.

"No."

"Who told you he protected her?"

"Drizzt. Drizzt Do'Urden told me."

"So you have no evidence other than his word?"

"No, but-"

"No further questions, your Honor."

The judge looked to the rather angry Kellindil. "Ambassador, you may sit down. The prosecution may call their next witness."

"Your honor, as my next witness is currently unavailable because of the situation. I have to ask for a recess."

"You've got it. We'll reconvene tomorrow 4 pm."

* * *

The next morning the DA (who was really just an public defender-turned-Assistant District Attorney back home, but was promoted since he was the only actual prosecutor in Sunnydale, even if he had only prosecuted one case) held a meeting with his staff. They were frazzled and did not know exactly what they were going with the case. All they knew was that the Mayor wanted a conviction. But this case was a media circus. The press was advertising everything they could about the Scoobies and Drizzt was of particular interest since he had such a dark background.

"So, anyone want to give suggestions?" he asked his staff.

"Buffy Summers. She's a well known figure, but she's also a character witness for Drizzt," said one of his assistants, Sara Baxter, a woman right out of law school. Before the Shift she hadn't passed the Bar, but here, they needed all the help they could. Until they could later set up a bar exam, she was doing all the work save for actually prosecuting crimes.

"The problem with that is the large number of Housecraft's people on the Jury," his other assistant said. "They already call her a witch, even if they claim that it won't affect their judgment."

"That is a problem," the DA agreed grimly. "If only we had someone who knew exactly what happened in the Moonwood.

"I already talked to Kellindil, and Ellifaine is in no shape to discuss it," Sara said. "Apparently some demon took the opportunity to mess with her mind about it and it made the whole thing worse. We need someone else who was there."

"Are you completely nuts?" the other assistant accused. He leaned back in his chair. "You're talking about bringing in one of the attackers! That's insane! The jury would never go for that. And how would we even find one of them anyway?"

"A friend in the Initiative says that the guy who lead the raid is in there right now," Sara said. "Drizzt's own brother."

"It's been done before in Mafia cases, bring in someone who is so despicable, but knows the information, and because of it, the jury eats it up," The DA mused. "It worked with John Gotti. They brought in his second and that was the damning testimony."

"All we have to do is present everything that person has done so it's out in the open," Sara said. "Then we present the evidence. We know the truth, but we don't have much evidence. We need to stop the character assassination and get the case back on track. McGristle is the one on trial here, not Drizzt, we need to remind them of that."

"But in order to do that we need to establish enough evidence that this is a hate crime," the other assistant said. "And in order to do that, we need to clear Drizzt's name. Bringing in a drow could jeopardize that goal because it could justify everything the defense is saying about dark elves."

"I think it's a risk we need to take," The DA said grimly. "No matter what anybody says, it's still racism. Just because some might have done something horrendous, doesn't mean we can paint them all with the same brush. We're calling Buffy up this afternoon. Take her aside before we start and we'll go over our questions."

* * *

In the Initiative holding cells, the other Drizzt was speaking most out of character to his human guard. The Guard was not really paying attention.

"The human Xander thought he was being compassionate when he gave me these papers and I must say they were quite enlightening," Bad Drizzt said, seemingly to the guard outside his cell. "What did he call them? 'comic' books. That was an odd choice of title because 'comic' implies a humorous story. The greater majority of these are quite serious. I am most interested in the Fantastic Four. Rather interesting bunch, even for group of humans." He held up an image of Susan Richards throwing a series of invisible daggers at people who had come to apprehend her brother, Johnny Storm. "Now, according to how this is told, Johnny Storm is not at fault, having tried to save a human and as a result burned down the _collegiums_. However, according to the laws, he was at fault. There is a discrepancy between the law and what is morally correct for the society. Fascinating read. Now Susan Richards, the Invisible Woman, is willing to do whatever she can to protect her brother from the law. But the real irony in it all, they all assume she is the least powerful."

The guard rolled his eyes and kept watch, not glancing at the comic opened for his viewing pleasure.

"She is, in fact, the most powerful of them all," Bad Drizzt explained. "First of all, she has the capability to turn herself invisible at will, which is a very impressive skill alone. Then, she can create force fields to protect herself, but also into specific shapes and items, such as daggers, ladders and keys. More importantly, she can turn other things invisible."

"She is capable of destroying the other three alone, but they stick together," the Drow continued to explain. "If she had simply joined with one of their enemies, like Mysterio (Granted, he is of Spider-Man's rogues gallery and not one of the Fantastic Four's usual adversaries) there would be nothing they could not do. A mistress of invisibility teamed with a master of illusion."

The guard just slapped on the button, shutting off the speaker. The next thing he felt was his own gun going off in his stomach. It sounded strangely muffled. Bad Drizzt let the illusion fall. "The one thing that almost always happens is that her enemies underestimate her. It took me three days to research the spell that deafens sounds in a very small radius. It was a simple matter of reduction from a greater spell to a smaller one. Smaller spells are easier to cast without people noticing. The other spell I needed to research was an improved illusion. Your precious little Xander never closed the door the last time he came for a visit. He thought he did; so did everyone watching on the monitors. But there's no sense in hanging around. You're little friends will notice your lifeless body soon enough. Or perhaps they won't." He cast another spell, turning the guard into a sleeping copy of himself. "Let's see if they remember that elves don't need to sleep. I'll be off. I have to go critique a man about his legal system. He really should reinstate the death penalty for assault and attempted murder of foreign diplomats."

Taking the man's security key card, the extra planar Drow wandered away from his cell, winking at a protesting ogre across the hall. Without the speaker activated, there was no sound from the creature and therefore no way for him to call for help. Bad Drizzt only paused a moment to release a highly pregnant basilisk from it's holding cell. Whispering another spell, he was gone without a trace.

* * *

"I don't think we're going about this the right way," said one of the DA's assistants.

"How so?" Sara Baxter asked.

"We're playing their game," He said. "They're making this all about Drizzt when the focus should really be on McGristle."

"He's right," Sara agreed. "McGristle's the one on trial. For most people it looks like Drizzt is the criminal."

"So what do you suggest?"

"I think we need to establish the basis for a hate crime," said the second assistant. "We need to prove without a doubt that dark elves are a persecuted minority on the surface. We need to prove that beyond a shadow of a doubt. We've got some minorities on the jury, that could work in our favor."

"We need the rest of the adventuring party here to make it clear that murder was the intent," Sara added. "I can make the call. I'm sure the Mayor would be willing to help."

"Do it," the DA said. He turned to his other assistant. "Get witnesses, get as many as you can from around the area. Locals, and make sure that they know what this is about. I want it as clear as day that this was a hate crime. You're both right, we've let them rule this for far too long. We're in it to win."

* * *

"Buffy Summers, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, so help you god?"

"I do."

"Go ahead," the judge instructed the prosecutor. He got up from his desk and walked towards the stand.

"Buffy Summers, could you please tell the court why you were witness to the events that occurred on the day in question?"

"I was out there trying to save Team 3's lives," Buffy said. "I ran out there to provide support while the other teams raced to their location. When I got there I started kicking orc butt."

"And why did you do that?"

"Because they were attacking Riley Forest and Graham," Buffy explained. "After that came the giants and that ended up being a major misunderstanding, but we didn't really get anything back then."

"Is there anyone here today that you know for a fact was there?"

"Yep, him," Buffy answered, pointing directly at McGristle. "And Drizzt and Kellindil too. But Drizzt had a broke leg by that point."

"Now, could you please tell the court what happened between Mr. McGristle and Drizzt?"

"Yes."

"…and what was it?"

"Oh, I just thought you wanted to know if I could, but yeah," Buffy said. "There was a whole lot of fighting. When it was all over Drizzt was up with a broke leg thinking Graham was trying to cut him and then Stinky McGristle over there tried to kill him with an axe. Drizzt couldn't see it coming and he wouldn't have been able to do much anyways in that situation."

"And what did you do after that?"

"I knocked him out with a club," Buffy said. "And then I passed out. I don't really remember passing out, but everyone who was there tells me it happened. I usually don't pass out from things like that."

"And what did it look like before you passed out?"

"McGristle wanted Drizzt dead, there's really no other explanation."

Thank you Buffy, no further questions your honor."

"Council, your witness."

"Miss Summers, what do you classify yourself as?"

"Human. Female. High School Student."

"But aren't you a demon?"

"OBJECTION! This is base slandering! There is no reason for this kind of questioning except character assassination."

"Sustained. Council, you are approaching another contempt of court right about now."

"No further questions, your honor."

* * *

The trial continued on. After long deliberations, it was decided that Dinin Do'Urden would be a witness to the prosecution. Drizzt was absolutely mortified.

"Please state your name for the record."

"Dinin of the Bregan D'arth formerly of House Do'Urden."

"Your Honor, we would like to treat Mr. Do'Urden as an expert in Menzoberranzan society and politics," the DA announced.

"Council? What do you say?"

"I'd like to ask a few questions, if I may?"

"Go ahead."

"Mr. Do'Urden-"

"Dinin, House Do'Urden is no more and therefore I cannot use that name," Dinin corrected.

"Dinin then, what qualifies you as an expert?"

"I was the head of staff at the Academy for over fifty years before House Baenre slaughtered House Do'Urden, I have lived there nearly my entire life and have been raised in the political scene since I was born. I assisted in the raid that raised House Do'Urden from the 10th house to the 9th and into the ranks of the nobility. The only person on the surface better versed in Menzoberranzan politics and culture is Jarlaxle and he isn't likely to volunteer."

"I uh-I'll allow him."

"Dinin, to show the court that you are telling the truth, we need to establish a level of trust between us and the Jury," the prosecutor explained. "We need to you to admit to all crimes you have committed during your life time."

"Certainly," Dinin said with a shocking smile. He proceeded to tell every shocking detail of every murder, every raid, every house burning, every destructive thing from the time he was Blooded to the time he killed his older brother to the time he and his elder sister tried to kill Drizzt. This was everything right up until he joined Bregan D'arth. It took hours to tell and the faces of the crowd was rapt at the horror this one man had committed and how honest he was about the details. He even told where the evidence was stashed and what had happened to their families. His raw charisma and good looks kept the cameras trained on him. It was explicit; it was shocking; and it was news. He intrigued his viewers like few others as he told them of a world so completely unlike their own, and yet the horror of it was the parts so strangely familiar in politics and corporate maneuvering. "I might have forgotten a few, but I don't think so."

"So you have not committed any crimes since you joined Bregan D'arth," the prosecution asked.

"Not exactly. Bregan D'arth is considered to be the closest thing to a standing army in Menzoberranzan that we have aside from House armies. Since they are under the command of House Baenre, which is essentially the true power of the government, anything they do is sanctioned by the government. Ergo, nothing I have done since then could be construed as a crime in Menzoberranzan, perhaps unethical, but not criminal."

The prosecutor stammered a bit before continuing. "Do you remember the raid in the Moonwood some fifteen years ago?"

"Oh, quite clearly."

"Would you please explain what happened?"

"Certainly," Dinin replied with that same horrifying smile. "It is an interesting thing, a first raid. A Blooding, we call it. We bring a young class for their official first raid. In this instance it was to be a surface raid. It was still night, but surface elves, much like the Drow, do not sleep at night. There was a party and it became a slaughter."

"What was Drizzt's part in all of this?"

"He was supposed to be killing with everyone else," Dinin said, glancing at his brother in the crowd. "Instead he was pretending to kill while he protected a child. At first even I was fooled. He swung his blades around, pieces of elf flew all over the place, but they never pierced living flesh. He half buried the child in the gore. Granted she lived, but I doubt she's very sane. She was at a very impressionable age."

From the audience, Ambassador Kellindil was almost steaming with pent up rage. That last comment forced him to leave rather than have to listen to more.

"How did you find out the truth?"

"Oh, Matron Malice, that would be our mother, was spying on Drizzt and her consort after it happened since House Do'Urden had lost Lloth's Favor," Dinin replied. "When Matron Malice heard Drizzt admit he had never killed anyone she gave her consort, Drizzt's father a choice. Either he could be a sacrifice or Drizzt could. The consort chose himself."

"Why would Drizzt try and protect the girl?"

"That's the kind of person he is," Dinin said. "He has never killed in anything but self preservation. He could no more take an innocent life for pleasure than you could live in lava. He is a completely anathema to the Drow. He eschews the expected lifestyle for what he thinks is right. He is something that terrifies us all, though most would never admit it."

There was a long moment as that was allowed to sink in.

"How are Drow viewed on the surface?"

"I imagine we are hated."

"You imagine?"

"I don't spend enough time up here to truly answer the question. Anything I say would be supposition."

"Thank you Dinin, no further questions your honor."

"Council?"

"Thank you, your honor," the defense attorney said as he stood up.

"So you admit to being a murder, a traitor, a mercenary and a thief?"

"No."

"What?"

"I have never been a thief."

"But you said you took things from the bodies of those you killed!"

"Those who die with the most toys still dies. A dead body owns nothing. Murder yes, but not thievery." Dinin said, his white teeth flashing. "I intended to murder them. The fact that those opponents had things I could use was a totally secondary matter."

"But you took them! You said you did!"

"I was told I had to admit my crimes, there was nothing requiring me to admit to crimes I never committed. In fact I do believe that was explicitly stated as something not to do." He said with a near perfect grin. "Something about that being a crime in and of itself."

It took a moment for the defense council to get things under control again. "Drizzt was there at the raid?"

"Yes."

"And he knew what was going to take place?"

"No, he thought it was a training exercise."

"What?"

"We never told him what would happen."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"So-uh-um, so in your opinion, why didn't Drizzt attack the other raiders?"

"We would have killed him and then killed those he protected. Drizzt is incredibly smart. He is the greatest swords man of his generation or the one before and probably the next as well. But he also knows his own power is useless against massive numbers all at once. He saved those he could."

"…Uh, no further questions your honor."

"You may step down, Dinin." She looked over to the DA who was now fiddling through the papers. "Your next witness?"  
"Yes, I would like to call Fret of Silverymoon. He is a sage of considerable repute in the north and I would like to use him as an expert in the social field, specifically in the subject of prejudices of the North."

"Any objections Council?"

"I'll allow him."

Fret was brought to the stand and was given a seat appropriate to his size. He was, without a doubt, the cleanest dwarf anyone there had seen. After taking the oath the DA walked right up to him and established his qualifications to the jury, making sure they knew how knowledgeable the dwarf was.

"Fret could you explain to the Jury how the Drow are viewed in the North, especially around the area that McGristle grew up in?"

"Certainly. South and west of Sundabar, as in most of the North, Drow are reviled. However, the vast majority of them have never encountered a Drow and most have never encountered someone who has encountered a Drow. There are not many entrances to the Underdark in that particular region compared to other regions and the encounters are rare and exceedingly so."

"Now, in your expert opinion, do all Drow live up to the beliefs of these rural people?"

"No, not all, but there are instances where the hate is justified."

"Such as the massacre in the Moonwood?"

"Yes, but there are many cases where that is not true. For example, Lady Dove and Lady Alustriel's sister is a Drow, but she is not at all like the accounts would pigeonhole her."

"Wait, isn't Dove Falconhand human?"

"Yes, her sister's birth was complicated as well as being an issue of the youngest in the family. But not entirely unexpected considering their mother is Mystra, the Goddess of Magic. One of their mothers at least."

"Godde-what?"

"It is complicated."

The DA shook his head to get his mind back on the subject at hand. "How would you categorize their reactions to Drow?"

"The vast majority of it is prejudice."

"And what is your professional opinion of McGristle's actions?"

"As a witness to the incident and being personally acquainted with Mr. McGristle I can tell you with complete honestly and seriousness that he is beyond prejudiced. It may have started that way, but his actions at the incident in question and before was pure hate towards the 'Drow.'"

"Thank you, Fret," the DA said. He went back over to the table and picked up a large red leather-bound tome. He held it up for everyone to see. "This is a copy of the Sunnydale Law Code adapted from the California code and others." The public defender nodded that he agreed on what it was. Handing it to the dwarf, he asked: "Would you please read this section here?"

Fret put on his glasses (they were a special kind that helped him translate and decipher script of both mundane and magical nature). "'A Hate Crime is a criminal act specifically targeting and persecuting a group or individual based on race, religion, age, gender or sexual preference. A Hate Crime is considered a more egregious crime than one such normally committed.'"

"Thank you," the DA said, taking the book back. "And what does that describe to you?"

"It perfectly describes McGristle's actions towards Mr. Drizzt Do'Urden, specifically in regards to race."

"Thank you Fret." The DA glanced up at the judge. "No further questions, Your Honor. The prosecution rests."

"I would like to request a recess," the public defended said. "I think the jury and everyone else could use a rest."

"That sounds fine to me. Nine o'clock Thursday morning we'll recommence."

"I think we really turned it around in that last one," the DA said as he looked out at the setting sun.

"I think the defense is throwing the case," Sara argued. Both DA and the other assistant looked at her.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," cautioned the other assistant.

"I'm not, I just think this means more is coming our way later on," Sara said. "Think about it. I would have objected to ninety percent of what you asked them but he didn't say a word."

"But you aren't him," cautioned the DA. "But I think you might be right. We should be prepared for anything."

"As well you should," said the Mayor from the doorway. "I just wanted to congratulate you on such a good day."

"Mayor Wilkins!" Sara said, standing up in surprise.

"Don't worry Miss Baxter, I'm just here to give words of encouragement," the Mayor said with a winning politician's smile. "It's been tough running the first felony trial in the new Sunnydale, but I think you're doing a good job. Just keep up the good work!"

"Thank you Mr. Mayor," the DA said. "I'll try."

"Good man!"

There was a feeling of relaxation as the man stepped out the door.

* * *

"Your honor, I would like to call Mr. McGristle to the stand," the public defender said. The judge nodded and the hulking human lumbered up into the stand. He was somewhat comical with his illfitting prison uniform and chained hands. He stood in the stand like the others and glared at the crowd.

"McGristle, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"I do."

"You may be seated." He sat and the defense attorney stood up and glanced around the room.

"Mr. McGristle, would you please tell the court how you became involved with Mr. Do'Urden?"

"I was a tracker, hunting furs and skins with me dogs. I heard the town was lookin' fer trackers, so I went into town. They said they had drow, that one had attacked a kid, so I went looking for 'em."

"Did you find any?"

"Yeah, that one," he said, pointing to Drizzt sitting in the crowd.

"What happened then?"

"He killed me dog and dropped a tree on me face. He was laughin' when he do it, too," the hulking man said. Drizzt was not pleased. His fists were clenched, the blood running from them. "He left me fer dead. That's cruel way to die."

"You said he was laughing?"

"He wore this smirk, like it won it all," McGristle said.

"So what happened then?"

"I joined up with them adventurers," he relayed. "I was all fer huntin' him down and they were all about to quit. I knew we couldn't let him get away. He wuz too dangerous."

"So what happened when you joined the adventurers?"

"I tracked him and we prepared to hunt him down."

"And where did that take you?"

"Right out to where we fought them orcs and giants."

"Now, do you deny that you attacked Mr. Do'Urden that day?"

"No I do not."

"And why did you attack him."

"He couldn't be trusted. He was the one who scarred me and attacked the Thistledowns."

"Thank you Mr. McGristle, no further questions your Honor."

"Prosecution?"

"Thank you, your Honor," the DA said. He glanced at his notes and looked up the defendant. "So you say he killed your dog and then he dropped a tree on you, is that correct?"

"Yes and I-"

"Please just answer yes or no," the DA said. You could almost see the steam shoot from McGristle's ears.

"Yes," the hulking man hissed through clenched teeth.

"Are you sure you didn't command your dogs to attack first?"

"I didn't."

"Mr. McGristle, are you aware what perjury is? It's lying while under oath. Now tell the truth, did you or did you not command your dogs to attack Drizzt Do'Urden?"

"ACOURSE I COMMANDED THEM!" the hulking tracker bellowed, having lost all control. "ACOURSE I DID! You think I'm gonna let a stinkin' Drow get away? We all know what they're like! Their souls are as black as their hides! Ye can't trust one a them! He attacked me an then he killed them Thistledowns! He killed me dog!" McGristle pointed to his deeply lined face. "Look what he did to me eye! I's scarred fer life!"

"So, it's safe to say you hate him?"

"Acourse it's safe! It's true! Him an' all his kind!"

"So you hate all Drow?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"They're no good murderers and thieves. They're the scum of the earth! Living underground, killing us goodly folk!"

"So you attacked him because of his race?"

"Yes!"

"So, when you attacked him, after his leg was broken, unable to maneuver or otherwise avoid your attack, you were doing so because he is a Drow, am I right?"

"YES!"

"No further questions, your honor."

The prosecution sat down. McGristle's face was as red as his beard and the arms of the chair creaked in his grasp. The raw fury evident on his face was enough to scare some people in the crowd and the Jury, much closer than the rest of them, had more than a few members scared for their lives.

The defense attorney leaned back in his chair. He was careful to keep the smile from his face. He could honestly say that this case was successfully lost. Now he just had to bluff his way through the closing and get to the verdict. Oh, he might have badmouthed people a little, but when it came down to it, the entire thing was lost right then and there. It only helped that McGristle had a stunning resemblance to Charles Manson. But what the Mayor wants, the Mayor gets.

* * *

"Would the defendant please rise?"

McGristle and his lawyer stood. McGristle glowered at the crowd, his eyes scanning over them. More than a few of the jurors shivered perceptibly under that gaze.

"Has the jury made a verdict?"

"We have your honor."

"On the count of Aggravated Assault we find the defendant guilty. We find that it is sufficient to count as a Hate Crime under Sunnydale law."

"Thank you Jurors," she said. The judge looked down on the grimy man. He glared back up at her, completely unrepentant. "Mr Roddy McGristle. You are hereby sentenced to two years hard labor. Your work will be directed by the Sunnydale Department of Corrections. You may appeal this decision and you will have full access to your lawyer during this time. He can inform you of the specifics." She nodded tiredly to the bailiff before she stood up and walked out of the court room.


	37. Chapter 37

AUTHOR GENERAL'S WARNING

This chapter contains Gnomes. Research has shown that prolonged exposure to gnomes can have a detrimental effects on sanity and livelihoods of PCs. Other potential side effects are irritation, malicious feelings, the occasional berserk robot and even PC death.

Please consult your GM before adding gnomes to your campaign.

* * *

So three vampires and a werewolf walked into a bar. It was a seedy little tavern, but it had a big sign for "Adventurers Wanted" in the window. Desperately in need of funds for the trip down river (since three of them had a "skin condition" that prevented them from traveling during the day), Angel, Spike, Drusilla and Oz walked into the bar like a bad joke.

"I understand you're looking for some help," Angel said, sliding up to the bar. Oz went up next to him. The other two decided to neck in a dark corner.

"Damn right I am," snarled the bar tender. "But I wuz lookin' fur adventurers, not pretty boys and floozies."

Angel and Oz shared a look before turning back to the bartender. "Uh, I think it's best if you don't call Dru a floozy. The blond over there might take offense at it."

"What happens if he does hear?" another man at the bar asked.

"Bad stuff," answered Oz. The man raised a questioning eyebrow. Oz nodded as if to answer a question only the two of them understood. Both seemed satisfied.

"Well, you see, we're plenty strong to take care of what you're looking for," Angel said. The bartender didn't look convinced. He rubbed out his glass with a rag and set them both on the bar.

"Yee don't ha' any armor, yee don't ha' any weapons that I ken see and yer just a bunch of pretty boys and floozies," the bartender concluded, this time at a much higher volume. This time Spike heard.

"You calling Dru a floozy?" He was up and over before anyone could stop him. Spike grabbed the man by the shirt and punched him once,hard, in the jaw. He went out like a light.

"Spike! He's the one we were trying to get a job from!" Angel whined. Angel whined a lot lately.

"Bah, he'll wake up," Spike said, grabbing a bottle from behind the counter. "Bloody weren't no innocent either."

"So what now?" Angel said exasperated. Oz shrugged.

"We wait," the werewolf said. So they did. Pretty soon the bartender woke up with a tender jaw.

"Well, yoo've gut strength fur a pretty boy, I'll give ye that," the barkeep said, rubbing his cheek. "Alright. Here it be. Fur the dust o' the vampire in the Western Ruins I'll give ye 500 o' good Waterdavian silver."

Angel and Oz shared another look. Oz looked back to the barkeep.

"Cool," Oz said.

"Now, don't ye be bringing back no fake dust! Ole Merl'll know if ye be bringin' fakes! He's the greatest mage in all these parts o' the River Shinin'!"

"Fair enough," said Oz with a knowing nod.

The trip west was quick. The "Western Ruins" were a two story house of indeterminate origin on the western edge of town. It was about a five minute walk from the tavern. Judging by the rather large tree growing out of the foundation it had not been occupied by the living for some time. As it was, the number of places where a vampire could stay were quite limited. They searched around and found not much besides a stash of weapons and armor neatly packed away in good wool. The oils of the wool helped to prevent the metal from rusting. Rummaging through the stash, they found quite a few good pieces. Shrugging, Angel put them in Spike's pack basket to be sold when they got back to town.

"Why do I have to carry the soddin' pig stickers?"

"Because you're the only one with a pack basket big enough," Angel said. "Mine's full with the flasks because it's got the preservation spell on it. Oz needs to scout so he has to move fast and Dru will just hand them out to random forest creatures."

That brought Spike up short. Dru would just hand them out to random forest creatures, but she always had a reason. "Okay, you've got a point. But you're getting a bigger pack once we're back in town. So until then, sod off."

"Fine," Angel said with a roll of his eyes before going back through the small storage chests. There was one with gold, gems and jewelry, another with books and a third with what looked like some sort of doll the size of a child of 4 or so with a funky early 80s haircut and long sideburns.

_"Who dares disturb my slumber?"_ asked the doll as it climbed out of the chest. Angel looked at Oz. Oz shrugged. Angel looked at Spike who was gaping at the creature from the box. Dru was talking to nothing in particular, but it seemed to be a good conversation.

"I-I guess I do," said Angel, scratching the back of his neck in confusion. The creature opened its mouth to reveal a mouth of gaping fangs and launched itself at Angel. "Hey! Get off of me!"

Oz grabbed it by the legs to try and pull it off, but Spike was still gaping at the creature. Soon enough, the creature was held up in the air, struggling to attack Angel again. Oz kept his hands well out of bite range. Instead the creature changed tactics and stared intently into Angel's eyes. It had no effect other than creeping the elder vampire out.

_"Release me mortal,"_ commanded the creature.

"Uh, no?" Angel said. "Maybe you can tell us something. We're supposed to kill a vampire out here. Know where one is?"

"Angel?"

"Yeah Oz."

"I think this is the vampire."

"Really? You mean when he went for my neck he didn't realize?" Angel pointed to himself and then Spike and Drusilla.

"Nope."

"That's just weird," said Angel, looking the vampire in the eyes. The creature stared with googly eyes back into his. "He looks like a tiny Marty Feldman."

"Eye-gor," said Oz with a grin.

_"Obey my commands mortal!"_

"Uh, no. And you've got that kinda wrong too," Angel said. By this time Spike had shaken himself out of his stupor, lit up a cig and touched the burning end to the creature's skin. Seeing the burst of flame Oz nodded.

"Yep, vampire."

_"Unhand me! I am the ancient and all powerful Elder Mortun!"_

"No, a bloody pillock is what you are."

Oz and Angel had to agree. They were about to stake the vampire when they realized that they had nothing to carry the vampire dust in. So, as a compromise was made. Angel and Oz would carry the loot while Spike carried the critter in his packbasket. The Ancient and All Powerful Elder Mortun was not pleased with the decision.

It chose to protest loudly.

It was then gagged.

The short walk back to the bar managed to wake just about half the town. About two minutes into the walk, Mortun decided to call a friend for help. The summoning of rats makes sense most times, but not really when your opponents are vampires and a werewolf. It was no surprise that the rats, creatures of instinct really, quickly veered away when they caught scent of a wolf surrounded by walking dead things. A very large wolf.

Finally, after the five minute walk, they were back at the bar.

"Yee give up so quick?" the barkeep inquired.

"No," Oz said. He pulled the bound vampire from the packbasket by the hair so he didn't get bit. "Vampire."

There were shrieks of fear, a huge number of people cowering in the corners and a bellow of rage from the barkeep. The peasants covered their eyes to prevent becoming charmed by its gaze.

"Hark! The Dread Dead Gnome is here!" Screamed a peasant as he ran out the door. "Run for your lives!"

The Sunnydale 4 shared a confused look. Even Drusilla was confused by the statement. Angel bent down to look the creature in the eyes. Everyone ran, thinking he was taken over.

"I thought you were the Ancient and all powerful Elder Mortun," Angel asked.

"Sounds better than Dread Dead Gnome," commented Oz. Angel shrugged in agreement.

"How dare you bring that here!" The bartender was flabbergasted by their audacity.

"You wanted proof." Angel said as the vampire tried to bite Oz. It kicked with its' stubby feet in an attempt to nom on the arm that held it. "We brought proof."

"Kill it! Kill it!" screamed the bartender.

"Okay," Oz said, pulling out a stake and stabbing it in the chest. It immediately turned into a gaseous form and started fluttering away. "Odd."

"You have to kill the body in its casket," suggested the strange man at the bar. Sure enough the gaseous dust wandered back to the "chest" that Angel had tucked under one arm and slipped into the cracks. Suddenly realizing the increased weight, Angel set it down and opened the top. Inside was the same doll-like creature they had seen before. This time the staking was done properly. Angel took a napkin, laid it out on the counter and dumped the dust from the box onto the clothe.

"Pay up," Oz said, holding out his hand for the silver. The barkeep did.

Oz counted the money as they left the bar and went in search of some accommodations. "This adventuring thing's easier than I thought it would be," Angel commented to no one in particular. Spike scoffed.

"You didn't have to carry the bloody thing!"

As they left, none of them noticed the strange man at the bar just kind of vanish in the commotion.

* * *

The Mayor and his cabinet were quite tired by the time Drizzt explained the situation. For some reason he had decided that they needed to know the entire situation from the ancient history with the Crown Wars up until the past few weeks. Drizzt was quite thorough. Even Joyce, who really loved Drizzt like a son, was starting to nod off. The Scoobies had heard the practice run and all agreed that Drizzt could do it all by himself and he didn't need any support for themselves. At least, Buffy and Willow did. After being prodded away by two female elbows, a drooling and sleep addled Xander agreed.

The only person who was still listening intently was General Hennessey, who found the military side of the history fascinating. He was thinking in partial seriousness of having the young Drow write up the history and publish it after some additional research from alternate sources. Rise and Fall of the Menzoberranzan Empire had a nice ring to it.

"So, what you are saying is that your sister is planning on taking you back to Menzoberranzan," The Mayor summed up, trying to keep it along. Even a man with a hundred years of patience was starting to get tired of the long-winded story.

"Not exactly, I think she plans on restarting House Do'Urden," Drizzt said. "There are three of us left alive and she seems to have collected others. They aren't volunteers; they are slaves. As we are considered nobles, unless all three of us are killed, we have sufficient reason to confront House Baenre. If that happened, it would destabilize the way Menzoberranzan has run for thousands of years. Houses would join with ours just to rid themselves of Matron Baenre, but they would turn on House Do'Urden as soon as they could manage and turn on each other. The entire city would be shutdown in complete chaos."

"If that happened, who would win?" Hennessey asked. Drizzt thought about it for a long moment, considering everything he had been taught growing up in the culture and learned in the Academy.

"I'm not sure. Even with everything destabilized, Baenre has the most forces. She makes sure it stays that way. In a coalition, Oblodra would certainly join with Do'Urden, as would the 4th, 6th and 7th houses, if everything is the same as when I left (I doubt that very much)," Drizzt said. "The lower houses would join with the other houses that already hold their allegiances. The second house might well hold off until they decide who has won the battle and then sweep in. Other than that, it is hard to decide."

"From what I know, one thing is for sure, whatever comes out of it will be worse than what we have now," Drizzt finished. "With the destabilization of Menzoberranzan, we have all the other factions taking part; Ched Nasad would take advantage of it; as would the hundreds of orcish underdark hordes. Mind Flayers are always looking for new thralls and would be attracted to the chaos. They especially prize Drow for their nimbleness and would take many as thralls to care for their elder brains. It could potentially destabilize the entire region. After that it is only a matter of time before it spills out onto the surface."

"Do you really believe that?" Joyce Summers asked.

"Unless I'm missing something big, yes," Drizzt said.

* * *

The Mayor turned to look at Giles. "Mr. Giles, you met with Dinin Do'Urden, how did you view him?"

"I'm not a psychologist, but I got the distinct impression that he was telling the truth," Giles explained. "From what Drizzt has described, this must mean that he is either planning something or he has accepted the inevitable. Drizzt said that Dinin seemed on the verge of suicide. I agree with the others that he seems depressed. Putting him opposite the other Drizzt may have actually made things worse. That's not counting the psychological damage he might have incurred from Drizzt's actions. Which we will discuss later." This last part he directed to Drizzt who had the good taste to look ashamed for his actions.

"What it comes down to, we need to decide if we believe him," Hennessey said. "If we do, we might want to take some matters into our own hands. It might be prudent to keep them here as opposed to allowing them to return to Menzoberranzan."

"And do what with them? They haven't broken any laws in Sunnydale," Joyce argued. "We can't just ignore our laws just because we don't like them. Keeping them prisoner without just cause makes us just as bad as them."

This started a massive discussion, yelling match really, of various factions with their opinions on what to do on legal, safety and ethical grounds. The Mayor stopped it after a few minutes. "This isn't helping us at all. We need a plan. I want to meet this Dinin. Let me see for myself. All he's done so far is illegally cross our border, which is pretty undefined as it is. We might consider giving him asylum."

"Are you insane?" everyone turned to see Drizzt, who had stood up confused. "This is a guy who killed his own brother!"

"Drizzt," Joyce said hesitantly. "If he hadn't killed him, you wouldn't be alive today and probably neither would we."

There was a nervous moment of tension before Drizzt sat back down in his chair.

* * *

Ranma Saotome awakened to a sharp knock at his door. Glancing out the window, the sun was not really up so there was no good reason for anyone to be up that early even on a winter day like this. Grumbling, he sat up and realized his wife was already out of bed and probably in her study working on her next book. Glancing about, his children (who were known for being quite noisy in the morning, they took after their parents) were gone as well as his parents and Akane's father. Muttering something about poor choice of hours, he put on clothes and stumbled for the door.

Sliding the front door open he found himself face to face with the familiar figures of General James Hennessey, the Shaman of Ilneval and the damn Panda. The General held out a hand.

"Mr. Saotome? I General Hennessey am," the general said in imperfect Japanese. He was not using translation magic, but trying his best at the martial artist's native language. Ranma took his hand and shook it tentatively. "We something with you want discuss."

"Very well, do come in," Ranma said, motioning to the living room. He gave the Panda a glare as they all walked inside. Hennessey bowed slightly in thanks.

Hennessey leaned over and spoke to the Shaman. "It is customary in Japanese society to remove your shoes before entering," Hennessey said to the Shaman of Ilneval in English, touching the translation amulet to activate its power. The Shaman grumbled but took off his army boots.

"I was not aware that you spoke Japanese, General Hennessey," Ranma said in the same language.

"I in Vietnam also Japan was stationed," the large black man said. He pointed to his thigh. "For recovery 5 months there was. Three years after war stayed. My Japanese now poor. Not in many years use."

"It is much better than my English," Ranma said. He motioned them to sit at the table. The Panda pulled out a dish of egg rolls and a stack of bamboo. "Why are you here?"

"Orc discipline need. They teachers need," Hennessey said, still refusing to use the translation magic. "You good martial artist are. We you want for to orcs teach."

"They have been too long in the traditions of Grumsh," the Shaman put in, not afraid to use the translation magic. "Rage, anger, loss of control. They fight and raid, but never have enough to support them. They have no fields to harvest food. Their weapons are mostly stolen from raids. They are little more than wild boars running through the woods. They must be taught discipline and control. Only then can they understand strategies."

"Then why have you come to me," Ranma said with a shrug. "I am only a former teacher turned carpenter."

"Your mother not true say," Hennessey said. "Your mother more says. Mother best martial artist says."

"Ilneval teaches that overwhelming numbers will help, but that is useless without the discipline to use them," The Shaman said in a darkly serious tone. "General Hennessey tells me that martial arts can bring discipline, but that it must be taught by a master. The strange bear tells me that you are a master warrior after I give it food and bamboo. I doubt this because you are short and thin. You seem very weak and you do not have the feel of a warrior about you."

"Perhaps ten years ago that would have gotten a rise out of me," Ranma said, sending an almost imperceptible glare at the panda. "But I have matured. I am no longer the hot headed kid I used to be."

"This not the only problem is," said Hennessey. "Must all soldiers teach. Human, orc and demon must all together teach. Must Sunnydale into Sunnydale soldiers make."

"I am not a soldier and I will never be one," Ranma said. He gave the panda another glare. "I will do this on one condition."

"What is it?" The Shaman seemed a little too eager for his own good.

"I choose the entire program from start to finish," Ranma said firmly. "I teach them with everything I think is appropriate. I choose my assistants. There are no arguments. I choose who is trained and who should not be trained."

* * *

Vierna Do'Urden was not the best tactician. Nor was she even remotely good. She was, however, plenty smart enough to know she knew nothing about tactics. She knew she was not experienced in the ways of war and so, this time, she took Jarlaxle's advice and allowed him to plan the assault to capture Drizzt.

Secretly, the mercenary was opposed to the entire expedition, but he knew better than to oppose a priestess in Lloth's favor. In an obvious manner at least. He could manage a few tricks of his own, if it came down to it.

His decision was easy: let the cannon fodder go in first, then send in the mercenaries. This meant sending in the troops given by House Baenre with the priestess. For all that he looked down upon them, they were skilled forces of the First House. Weakness is not something you show in this world. But he had his suspicions that this would end badly. There were too many unknowns and too many variables to consider. Jarlaxle preferred to have a good chance at success. This was like playing with un-tampered dice.

So he presented a plan that had a chance of success if they still had surprise. The plan also kept his people out of harms way if things went bad. Which is, of course, exactly what Jarlaxle wanted in the first place. At least the trip was otherwise profitable.

* * *

TO THE READERS: Thanks for everyone who is reading this. It has been a pleasure and a chore all at the same time. I especially want to thank those readers who have brought their own comments and opinions, and I invite more to share. This is a story that can always get better with the help of more people, so any time you want to help pitch in with opinions, suggestions, tech and social considerations, please do. The more responses I get, the better I can make the story.

I'd also like to thank Richard L. for the brilliant discussion about a wide variety of things. Janessa Ravenwood has been indispensable as a reader and editor of this story and has suffered through much.

I want to send a shout out to the readers from all over the world. I think it's amazing that the web has brought so many together in such a way. Yeah, this is old news, but it's still awesome.


	38. Chapter 38

"Our next order of business is the Northern Summit we proposed hosting," Allan Finch said. "We bring leaders from all over the North to discuss trade, borders, security and other issues. We were speaking tentatively for the Vernal Equinox."

"I do recall that Ambassador Peris did say something about Manshoon mentioning a possible State visit," said the Mayor. "He wants to increase the amount of trade in the next year. I told them it was a possibility but that we wanted discuss things further on our side."

"We really need to look into what we have to trade," Joyce said, leaning back in her chair. "The exports we've come up with seem to be largely ignored. Part of that is the lack of infrastructure in many of these places. Peasant economies are very different from what we are used to."

"I've been giving that some thought and have come up with some plans," Mr. Chase said. "I spoke with the anthropologists who have been working with the orcs and we've come up with some possibilities." He handed a computer disc to Allan Finch who started up the overhead projector connected to the computer. These days paper was at a premium and nothing was printed that was not absolutely necessary. There were warehouses filled with used paper ready to be recycled as soon as a complex was built to recycle it. Kids in school were using chalkboards made out of native slate and wood instead of scrap paper. More complex projects were done on computer. Once Finch had the diagram up on the projector, Mr. Chase pointed to a picture of several different objects in a checkerboard pattern. He pointed to the first, a bundle of clothes. "Textiles, our first order of business should be a textile trade."

"Why textiles?" Nabiki Tendo asked. "There are plenty of other possibilities to start why there?"

"Many of the people here in the realms, orcs and humans included, have maybe one or two pairs of clothing for everyday us," Chase answered. "They might have one set of good clothes that they only wear on special occasions. Those clothes might be passed down from generation to generation. Washing the clothes might happen once every two weeks in the summer and almost never in the winter." He motioned to Dr. Chung. "As Amelia has said, we need to encourage good hygiene in ourselves and our neighbors. If we start encouraging a this, we might be able to capitalize on textiles."

"So why this?" Hennessey asked. "I can understand the health concerns, but why this above other things?"

"We have the land, the animals and the crops," Chase said quickly. "They are giving us Rothe-the things that look like Banthas? They are giving us rothe for food crops, but they might be able to produce a sort of wool. We have sheep, we have flax and we have hemp. It might not grow in large amounts, but I heard about some cotton surviving better than expected, too. Unlike other industries, we have the raw materials to start the industry. With mass production we can have a textile mill running within a few months if my calculations are correct."

"He's right," Dr. Chung said. "But more than that, we need to look to ourselves. We are in need of more winter clothes. Wools are a good choice for a place to start. We are living in close quarters with limited supplies. That's an epidemic brewer. Our only saving grace is the constant supply of fresh water. Changing clothes will actually help us prevent problems like this."

"The only cotton we have is a small colony in the greenhouses," Maggie Walsh put in. "It's a cold climate so we would have to grow them inside during the winter. Geothermal heating will help us do that, but it prevents us from mass production unless we want to focus primarily on it. It's one of the major problems I'm seeing with all of this. We don't have the room or the people to grow what we need."

"And we don't have the food to feed the people we need to build what we need," Joyce said grimly. "And another problem, if we flood the market with our clothes that's going to make a lot of angry people who make their livings doing the same in their communities. We'll be no better than Walmart, walking into a community and putting everyone else out of business."

"I actually have thought of that as well," Mr. Chase added excitedly. He pointed to the projector. "Mr. Finch, could you bring up the slide labled-128c? Oh, wait, 124d is the one I want. Sorry, I'm so used to just printing out my proposals and having people flip to the right page." Everyone gave him a sympathetic look. "Okay, so here is a picture of a textile mill. This is pretty much 1900 technology with later 20th tech added for protection and safety. I was talking to some of the engineers and they're confident that they could mass produce, well, Mill-Kits, I guess we could call them for lack of a better word. We sell these mill-kits to communities with heavy textile industries and have them be our competition. We are the experts, so if they have a problem, we are the ones who will go and fix them. We provide support and oversight. We can even provide them with some of the raw materials in terms of dyes and tints."

"And with what are you proposing we make these things? This is not an iron rich landscape, we have some, but not on the scale that people are talking about," Maggie Walsh criticized. She criticized frequently, but she was usually right, unfortunately.

"We import the iron and build a steel plant," Chase said. "We already have adapted a small smelter to reuse the scrap metal from around town. If we build a bigger one we can start building more and more. Remember, mass production is our friend. That, more than anything else, is going to keep our economic head above water."

"We need a smelter regardless if we are going to continue with the Sunnyrail project," the Mayor put in. "I think we should follow the model the North used in the early 19th century." There was a blend of understanding and confusion among the cabinet. "The north would import raw materials and transform them into other goods before exporting them again. In the case of cotton, they would import the raw cotton and then produce clothes and sell it right back to the South for a much higher price. The South didn't have the industry, having focused on plantations and agriculture. We can do the same for the short term, but we all know what happened after it went on for a while." The several non-Americans of the Cabinet clearly didn't know what happened, but the Mayor explained. "War. Being a vassal state breeds resentment. If we used this model for the long term it would cause our neighbors to rise up against us. And that's never a good idea."

"That's something I didn't think of," admitted Chase. "I'll have to work up some models with the economists and anthropologists to see what we can do from there."

The Mayor nodded in agreement. He glanced back to his deputy mayor. "So getting back to the topic at hand…"

"Yes, the Summit," Finch said. "Should we go through with it? I know that there are some hard feelings between a few of the Northern Leaders and I don't want this to start a war. What should we do?"

"I say we do it," Joyce said. "We need better relations with our neighbors. We need something more than us telling them what we want and demanding that we get it. This could go a long way towards that goal. It also would place us as a neutral party. They need to realize that we are not going to take sides in their arguments unless one side or the other directly attacks us."

"I agree with that," said Chase. "We can also use it as an expo to show what we are capable of in terms of trade. Encourage them to bring specialists in various trades so they can see what we can do for them. This might actually increase our trade. When they see things they want, things that only we can provide, then we have an advantage. One of our biggest problems is not knowing what other counties need or want."

"We need to do something, but we also need to make the ground rules very clear," Hennessey put in, speaking up for the first time in a while. "No weapons at the expo. Participants will be searched. We want this safe and we want it safe for everyone."

"Perhaps inside the expo, but let's make it more relaxed around town, in appearance at least," the Mayor commented. "We want them to see us as a nation, but not a weak one. We want to be seen as a Power, not just a place to be exploited."

"Then why don't we make peace part of the expo?" Finch suggested, raising a timid hand. The others looked at him a little strangely. "That's what the Olympics were all about, right? Friendly competition and all that?"

"Yeah right," huffed Amelia Chung. "Did you see the Chinese women's swim team? They were pumped up on enough steroids to take the Dallas Cowboys nine times out of ten and taking a one shot handicap. The Russian hockey team? The US hockey team beating them and the press turning it all into a heroic act? There were massive amounts of nationalism and global politics built into the Olympics on all sides. But I can see what you mean. It would starting making things friendlier. It's harder to kill someone you can see as a person."

"But what events do we choose?" Joyce put in. "And that early in the spring isn't a good time really, it's too cold for summer events and too warm for winter events."

"Then we pick events that everyone can participate in because they do it all the time here," Nabiki Tendo put in. "Archery, horseback riding, running, swimming (there is the heated pool in the high school) and so on. Maybe some martial arts presentations, not competitions mind you, but presentations. We could have a Triathlon as well. We could introduce them to some of our sports as well. Baseball, football, well you Americans call it soccer, kendo, judo, the basic high school sports."

"Those last two aren't what I would call a basic high school sport," commented Joyce with a smile. Nabiki smirked back.

"You can bet there will be demands for it soon enough with the number of Japanese in the community now, not to mention the numbers from Nerima," Nabiki countered.

"I think these are all great suggestions, but who is going to organize all this?" The Mayor asked. Everyone, save for one, looked at Allan Finch. The one who didn't look to him was, of course, Allan Finch himself. His shoulders sagged in acceptance.

"Fine, I'll write up a formal proposal," he said, jotting something onto his slate.

* * *

The second Drizzt's spell had yet to expire. Adding that little extra energy always made things last and this would stay for a day or so before all hell would break loose. The Initiative, already overtaxed by the day to day duties of taking over for the police force, would be rushing to find out where and when he had escaped. One of the doctors, a hold over from the previous clandestine Initiative, was the acting ME and will announce that cause of death was a shot from his own gun. The fingerprints will match perfectly with Drizzt's. By that time the body would be around 72 hours dead, long past the point of really good information. And "Evil" Drizzt would be nowhere to be found.

Even at this point Evil Drizzt was long gone and had set several traps throughout the complex should anyone be stupid enough to follow in his footsteps. He choose to instead stay in his hideout, a section of the Initiative that none of the humans seemed to know about. It was not surprising, even his superior elven senses were nearly fooled. Stored inside was enough food to supply him for some time and the water ran constantly from the tap. It used the same power source as the Initiative proper, but also seemed to have plenty of equipment to operate independently if need be.

Evil Drizzt was not pleased by his incarceration. He had underestimated his other self, something that would not happen again. The best solution would be to avoid his copy if at all possible, however, his inborn thirst for revenge nagged at him. How best to get back at Sunnydale? What would send them into chaos best? In the months he had been trapped in there he had learned much about Sunnydale: their organization, their infrastructure and their political systems. Just listening could tell much about a place. Even if he did not have a personal experience with the town, the Drow thought he could manage his way around. Perhaps someone would be willing to sell maps? He threw out the thought almost as soon as it went into his head. They would be suspicious of the "real" Drizzt so long as he was somewhere else. And yet this brought him back to the topic of his revenge.

One thing that fascinated was the concept of an electoral system. A democracy they called it. It was distasteful, that much was true, but the fact that it worked at all fascinated him. It was entirely dependent on the human concept of Trust. All the little voters had trust that the other sides would simply go along with what the majority chose (even if it was a very slim majority). The side that won had to trust the other sides would play by the rules. Those rules included no breaking the LAW.

Law. That was another concept that amused him and fascinated him. Laws in Menzoberranzan were rarely explicitly stated and almost never codified. Custom enforced most of the unspoken rules. What House Baenre wanted, House Baenre got, especially by manipulating those in power. The other houses fought each other, but kept to the darkness, rarely bringing their political bickering out into the open. The large majority of behavior was enforced by culture and the threats of what gossip could do to a House. Here in Sunnydale they were positively obsessed with codified laws. There were laws against killing. There were laws against stealing. There even were laws against spitting on the sidewalk or the floor ($200 dollar fine, the rate hadn't gone up since 1901. Richard Wilkins was very strict about manners and cleanliness). And people still broke them. The concept of being that obsessed with laws and having people specifically break them was oxymoronic. Then there was the fact that they glorified criminals in their "movies" and their "music" to the point that some were seen as legends even if they never existed.

Their infrastructure was something to admire. Transportation faster than riding, mass transit on things other than ships. If they wanted something that wasn't close by, they would bring it to them. Buildings were constructed, using no magic that he could detect, that could reach the sky. Water right out of a pipe. Clean water out of a pipe. Even in mighty Menzoberranzan they had minor priestesses attending to the water cisterns to purify the contents daily.

After much consideration and contemplation, he formulated a plan. If enacted properly, it would serve as protection for himself and increase the chaos around Sunnydale as a source of vengeance. He would give it a several days before it was put into effect.

* * *

The search was fruitless. The only thing the agents were catching was frostbite and pneumonia. Searches went out and nothing more than a few ravenous goblins, was found, much less a large group of Drow. Drizzt, being a prime target of his sister, was being kept under strict house arrest. He was still in trouble for his actions earlier. Giles had made it very clear that capturing someone who had committed no crime in Sunnydale and torturing them (even psychological torture) was not allowed. Looking back at it, Drizzt was suddenly realizing how similar to his siblings he really was. It scared him more than he was willing to admit aloud.

* * *

"Drizzt! Do you know how close I am to having you arrested?" Giles had said. There was a tinge to his words that Xander referred to as the "Ripper" voice.

"What?" Drizzt had exclaimed, confused at the statement.

"What you did was wrong," Giles had stated darkly. "We do not use torture, not even psychological torture! We do not incarcerate people without charging them! Those are serious crimes! Everyone, and I mean everyone, has rights according to the government. One of those is that you can't just be thrown in jail because someone says you should be! Not to mention you aren't even an officer of the law! You're a goddamn high school student!"

"But he-"

"He what? He's killed people? I am well aware of that," Giles said. "I know he is a murderer. I know all those stories you told me. But Bloody hell Drizzt! If we don't live up to our ideals, how can we expect anyone to take those ideals seriously. He is not a citizen of Sunnydale. We are not at war with Menzoberranzan and we certainly don't have extradition to Menzoberranzan. We haven't the slightest idea where it is from here! There is no right to hold him here, much less torture him!"

He pointed right into the elf's face. "We are in a precarious place, you, me, Sunnydale. If we don't act to the best of our ability and live up to the expectations of the people then there is no reason for law and order to exist. If he had done something, or we had caught him in the act of attempting to do something, anything against the law, we would have had him."

Giles had paced around the room while shoving the impromptu civics lesson down the dark elf's throat. Drizzt had sat glued to the chair, a little afraid of the sudden change that seemed to have come over the Watcher. "You have become something of a symbol to Sunnydale, many symbols in all actuality. To some you are a hero who came in and saved the day. To others you are the first in a sweeping move to eradicate everything they believe in. You are the only one who gets to choose between the two. So are you going to prove Housecraft's people right? Are you a demon trying to drag them to hell by destroying law and order? Or are you a hero? A young man who stands up for what is right? Someone who does what needs to be done even if it isn't something they want to do?"

Giles slammed his hands on the table in front of the Drow. "Choose Drizzt. Whether you like it or not, you are a symbol, like Buffy is, or Mayor. But worse, you're a religious and political symbol. Some people think you are an affront to their beliefs and to their personal wellbeing. This isn't a problem you can solve by sticking a sword in it. You have an image and only you can decide how that image will be. Are you the hero? Or are you the villain? Go home and think it over. You will go to school and you will go right home afterwards."

"But I-"

"No arguments Drizzt," Giles had said firmly. "When you're at school get some books on the history of law. I know they have a book on the Magna Charta because I put it there. Read that. Then think the McGristle trial. See what has been done to your image. Then consider what you did to your brother and what would happen of that got out."

* * *

Days later, Drizzt was considering the events carefully. Giles was right. He was right and that scared Drizzt a lot. What Drizzt had done to Dinin WAS wrong. He had acted out of fear and anger. He had forgotten where he was and let his memories and fear of his family control his actions. His outburst in the council chamber just made that more obvious. He remembered that Sunnydalers called this Culture Shock. People had asked him if he was having it. He was now.

* * *

Kaanyr Vhok's orders were pretty clear. He liked that. Clear orders and clear (but reasonable) punishments should he fail. No more "succeed or die" orders. No more "I'll kill you because I feel like it" whims either. If the Mayor was going to kill him, it would be because Vhok had crossed him, not for any other reason. The work was steady and the pay was good, so Vhok had no reason to do so.

Sunnydale was good for cambions and alufiends alike. He and his "family" were feeling particularly at home underneath the city streets in their little demon den. Granted, having vampires as neighbors did bring down the property value, but some indoor plumbing and lighting, electricity, a television/DVD/VHS set, a bed and a front door did give it a more homey feel. They had removed the candles to a storeroom for emergencies only. Whoever this "Master" had been, he had poor taste in decoration. The Cambion would never understand why a creature so vulnerable to fire would surround himself with so much of it. Behind the times, Vhok supposed. Kannyr Vhok preferred overhead lighting at the flick of a switch.

They had opened up a few more rooms to allow for the growing "family" of demons. One of the problems with living with seduction demons is the constant, looming threat of pregnancy. Incubi/Succubi would do what they did best when bored: have sex. As it was, he saw at least three of them were pregnant and he knew at least three of them were fathers to some of Sunnydale's newest mothers. This was rather hard to pin down exact numbers, especially since not all the mothers were humanoid. (He knew of one emu half-succubi, and didn't even want to know guess that started). He wasn't sure which of them, since it was extraordinarily hard to keep track of the sex-lives of four shape- and sex- changing demons. If it seemed strange to others, he didn't care. The den would soon be filled with the clackity-clack of little claws on stone. It was reminding him of home in a strange manner.

Aliiza was busy so often with the growing Magic Guild that he barely saw her anymore. She always came home excited over one thing or another and he pretended to be interested. They were growing apart, and he knew the reason. For the first time in their lives they had things that mattered to them. He had important work for the Mayor and she was an educator. It seemed like only yesterday that they were just sneaking off for a shag between raids with the Scoured Legion. So much had changed in just a few months.

Today, Mr. Vhok was spending time in front of the television in his new recliner he picked up at the local Goodwill. It had belonged to someone know as Ira Rosenberg, whoever that was, and the owners had decided it took up too much space. (Had he known who that owner was he would have been quite amused .) He was enjoying the fermented substance known as beer (it was something completely unknown in Hellgate Keep since there most had neither the levelheadedness to grow the ingredients nor the know-how to brew the booze). Basically, he was mimicking the actions of many a lazy American male while other people worked.

Unfortunately, Kaanry Vhok found it extraordinarily boring. Although he was a man who enjoyed the good things in life, he was also a man of action. He would rather be playing sports than watching American football reruns on television. Making a decision, he jumped out of the chair, chugged the beer and ran out into the cold. Climbing on his bicycle, he started peddling as fast as he could in the 12 cm of snow. The Mayor said this was a slow time of year. They couldn't build in this weather and they couldn't do much else until things changed.

Vhok peddled hard up to the western ridge of the Sunnydale Plateau. He knew this was where the ethnic group known as "Japanese" were building. He just liked the view. If he squinted in the early morning light, he could just barely see his hometown jutting up like some stark white fang from the jaw of some gigantic skull. Ascalhorn they used to call it.

Fucking nostalgia.


	39. Chapter 39

Willow Rosenberg was one of the most promising students of magic that just about anyone had seen in a long time. Deities both fair and foul kept an interested eye on the young woman. She was brilliant and she was creative. She also had an inferiority complex that made her just a delicious target for certain religions that abounded the darker parts of the Forgotten Realms. Other forces watched her as well.

The Zhentarim were among the most attentive. When reports of her magical talent went back to Manshoon (as all the people connected to prominent people had reports on them and the Scoobies were connected to just about everyone of interest, they themselves became of interest), he had expressed an interest in her. Instead of direct recruitment, he wanted to see what he could get out of her. So he had given orders that she was to be given a discount on whatever interested her, without making it look like she was getting a discount.

Before the Shift, the Sunnydale Mall was not the most prosperous place. It attracted the normal attention of chain stores like the Gap or the local grocery chain, but it also had a reputation in the corporate chain community. Managers tended to just quit after working there for a while, or they just up and vanished, or they suddenly changed to working only the night shifts. People now understood the reasons were primarily caused by the so-called "gangs on PCP" but back then it had a tendency to run through stores like a person suffering from bad seafood.

Post-Shift, things were different. The Sunnydale Mall was the most commonly occupied place in town. Merchants from both within and without Sunnydale congregated to sell their wares by taking out sections of the various shops. They tended to fill the spots that people used to sell similar wares: clothing in former clothing stores, baubles in former jewelry stores and so on. Interestingly enough, Sunnydale clothing was starting to become a major export. The styles and colors were considered strange and unusual. Certain dyes were only used for the richest or highest ranking in the rest of the Realms, but here in Sunnydale they were for everyday people. Away from Sunnydale this was making a big splash, especially in certain male dominated circles. Some societies had actually banned the wearing of certain pieces of clothing including, but not limited to: women's jeans, purple anything, miniskirts, anything navy or royal blue, and shorts.

Today, a certain Zhentarim agent, posing as a simple merchant, was selling books. Normally these would not sell so well (most of them not being in a language the Sunnydale residents could read), but today was different. The Watcher's Initiative quickly bought most of them, but chose not to buy multiples. The rest were going to be a loss for the Zhentarim agent. These remaining books were a collection of religious texts from a wide range of religions across the Realms from the borders of Kara-Tur and the Hoardlands to Chult in the south and Icewind Dale in the north. The Zhentarim agent had been informed that he was specifically to give this book to at least one of two people.

Willow Rosenberg, one of the few people who were given regular use of a translation amulet, bought a book on religion.

* * *

That morning Ranma Saotome stood up in front of the assembled students. It was about 50-50 human to orc and he made sure to line them up in a mix of age, experience and race. There were no groups of three or more.

Ranma himself was not an impressive man. Though he was of average height in terms of most of Earth, he was dwarfed by the orcs and soldiers in front of him. The average orc stood a head higher than him and almost all of the students, human or orc, had a more visibly impressive muscle mass. He was younger and less scarred than most of them. Add to the fact that he looked much younger than his 27 years, he was stuck with a difficult first group of students. General Hennessey introduce him to the crowd with the aid of translation magic.

"This is Ranma Saotome, he is your instructor for the next few weeks. If he tells you to do something, do it," the General had said. "This is an order." He turned back to Ranma and smiles. "Give them hell."

With that, Ranma was left in front of 50 new students. He glanced them over. More than a few did not think he was an appropriate choice. Most of them were skeptical about his ability.

"I am Ranma Saotome," he began, speaking loud enough to be heard in the back. "I do not have a rank. You will not call me sir. You will call me Sensei or Teacher. But remember this, compared to me you are mewling babies. None of the fighting you have done matters at all to me. I don't care about what battles you fought and I don't care what competitions you won. Each and every one of you is at the same level in my eyes. I was asked to teach you discipline and I will do so." A quick glance at their faces told him that pissed them off. Good.

He chose not to wear the clothing provided for him, choosing his usual Chinese shirt and Kung-Fu pants. The students, even the orcs, were all wearing BDUs of various colors. Searching through the crowd he picked the biggest, meanest looking soldier he could find.

"You," he said pointing at the man. "Come here." The man stepped forward and came to attention. He had obviously had training, a marine Ranma guessed. "Attack me."

"Yes, sir-Sensei," The man said, correcting himself. The man struck out with a feint of a fist and then tried to sweep Ranma's feet out from under him. Ranma simply stepped aside. The marine punched and Ranma caught his fist with one hand.

"I told you to attack me," Ranma said. "Not play patty cake."

That pissed him off.

With serious attacks this time, the marine sent out a flurry of punches and kicks. Ranma blocked them all with one hand and then had the gall to yawn. When he thought the demonstration had been enough, the Asian man jumped over the marine, touching a pressure point on the man's neck and let him fall to the ground temporarily paralyzed.

"He got angry," Ranma explained. "The first thing I am going to teach you is the control of self. Then I will teach you how to fall and then I will teach you how to punch. When I think you have learned that, you will learn how to kick."

He looked them over again. Some were still not happy with him. Good.

He thought his students were ready to learn and they did little by little. Some were better than others, but many had to unlearn what they had learned. He would not teach the way he had been taught. He would find a better way.

* * *

The attack came in the dark. That was to be expected, as the attackers were Drow. What Drizzt didn't know, was that he had been bait for some time. Giles and the Initiative had deliberately allowed the scouts into the city so they could find the people controlling them. The scouts were documented, their faces cross referenced with the files and information gathered from the interrogations of Dinin Do'Urden.

The biggest arrogance of the Drow was the expectation that Humans couldn't see in the dark. Night vision goggles solved that problem. They watched as Drow entered into the city. They deliberately allowed the incursions, just as they allowed the "hole" in the defense. They knew exactly what would happen when the attack finally took place.

Assistant Director Riley Finn took point, watching as Vierna Do'Urden stalked into Sunnydale's shadowy streets. He watched as they vanquished a stray vampire that jumped out for a quick bite. He watched as they shot a barking dog with their sleep poison. He watched as the Drow stalked up Revello Drive. He watched as they broke into the house. Once they were all videotaped committing a crime he sent out a quick sharp command.

From inside and out the Summers home, blaster fire coursed through the air. Even Drizzt had been caught unawares with the sting operation. Drow fell all around him in unconscious heaps.

"Drizzt you traitor!" Hissed Vierna as her whip did the same. The snake heads went up to strike, but fell limp as a blaster set to stun shook them out. Vierna's look of shock was priceless, but was cut short as she too was shot. As she slumped to the floor, Forest and Graham stepped into the room. Without speaking a word to Drizzt, they cuffed his sister and stripped her of any remaining weapons.

Having watched from afar, Giles walked into the house.

"Drizzt, take this as a lesson," the watcher said. "If you want to arrest someone, make sure they commit a crime first."

"You set this up? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Drizzt, you are a good man, an excellent fighter and a good and honest heart," Giles said, cleaning his glasses for a second, "but you are no actor. Your natural wariness would have alerted them to greater heights of paranoia. This never could have worked if you were not so preoccupied."

"The dressing down, was this part of the sting as well?"

"Yes, but it was also serious," Giles said with the tone of a father. "You need to understand how things work here, and you need to learn the consequences for your actions. Now go to the Initiative offices. I believe you have something to say to your brother."

"My-what?"

"Dinin Do'Urden has been given asylum and will be working for me now," Giles said, but Drizzt was out the door before he could finish the statement. Giles glanced over and realized Vierna was waking up. He leaned down to look her in the eye as she was hauled to her feet. "Ah, yes, Miss Do'Urden. You are under arrest for crossing into Sunnydale's borders illegally, breaking and entering a personal residence, attempted kidnapping, unlawful possession of poisons, criminal trespass and one count of animal cruelty towards the dog you shot with the cross bow. Forest, Graham, please read Miss Do'Urden her rights and introduce her to her new accommodations. I believe the cell across from the green slime is open. I have to congratulate your team for an excellent sting execution."

"Thank you sir," said Forest sharply. He pulled the drow female to her feet again and nodded to Graham.

"Under Sunnydale law you have the right to remain silent," Graham said, speaking the words from memory. "Anything you choose to say or to can and will be use against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and should you not be able to afford one, one shall be afforded to you."

She chose to spit in Giles' face. Wiping it off with a cloth, he glared at her, letting just a bit of his younger personality into his voice. "And one count of assaulting an officer." Forest and Graham hefted the Drow noblewoman and continued to read her rights.

* * *

From the shadows on a rooftop several streets over, Jarlaxle watched as the operation went so far south penguins were likely to pop out. He tapped the magical broach that allowed for longer range communication.

"I do believe it is time for us to leave," he said to his new second in command.

"Immediately sir," was the quick reply through the magical item. "What about Vierna's slaves?"

"Knock them out and leave them in some house," Jarlaxle commanded. "Let them know we were here. Send up a flare or something that would be seen. Sunnydale can pay to keep them alive. We can always get more slaves and it will make it more difficult for them to follow us."

"It will be taken care of before you get back," was the sharp reply.

* * *

"So, ye be wantin' passage?"

Angel nodded.

"I guts rum fer one," the barge man said.

"Well sorry, we need room for four," Angel sad. "We'll have to wait for the next one."

"Soot yer selfs," the barge man replied.

They had been waiting for a transport for a couple of days since they vanquished the Dread Dead Gnome. Even their local celebrity had done nothing for their boating prospects. They were getting desperate. Even Spike was almost willing to ride a manure barge to the mouth of the River Shining. It was that boring.

"So, what now?" Oz asked. "Play for money?"

"I, uh, I can't sing. That would only work for you three," Angel admitted.

"Drusilla can sing?"

"My Dru's better than just about anyone, writes more stuff than sings, you know," Spike said before taking a chug off the blood flask.

"What kind of songs?"

"Like the Beatles in the later years," Angel explained. "But they make less sense."

"Cool."

The conversation would have gone on longer, but a short gal walked up to them. She was about two feet tall, with dark goggles propped on her forehead, pantaloons, wooden clogs and what looked like fully-auto crossbow. Her hair was cut roughly in a short, hot pink mess. She had a satchel across one shoulder stuffed with books and scrolls and a bandoleer of glass vials with odd colored liquids in each one.

"So I hear you're looking for a ride to Waterdeep?" she asked. "I'm Falan Gearcranker. I've got room on my ship if you can pay the price."

"We've got silver," Oz said. "Are you a gnome?"

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"Nope, never met a live gnome before."

"Well, now you have," Falan said with a grin. "I don't take silver or gold. I'm interested in Sunnydale. You tell me about living there and I'll give you transport."

"Uh, sure, we can do that," Angel said, a bit surprised. "How did you know we were from Sunnydale?"

"Only someone from another world wouldn't know how to kill a vamp," the gnome said. Spike smirked at that and glanced at Angel's nervous twitch. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Yes," Drusilla said for them. The four men looked at her. "The moon told me too." Angel and Oz looked questioningly at Spike. He shrugged.

"Good enough for me," Spike said. "Where's the ship?"

Soon enough, they were all on board. The ship was crewed by gnomes, all sporting the same strange get up and goggles. More than a few were working on wrenching cranks and knobs around. There were not the usual sails, but one on each side and one on the tail. At the prow was a massive ballista loaded and ready.

"Stow your things in the hold," Falan commanded. "And strap yourself in."

The strapping in was easily done, with a great number of seats set up to face forward and belts to strap themselves in.

"Is this a steam ship?" Angel asked a little nervously. "Are you afraid we'll fall off?"

"Oh, better than steam." She pulled a crank beside her and the ship began to move right towards the rapids. The course never varied and the speed increased continuously.

"Aren't we supposed to take the locks to get down to the lower river?" Angel asked, more nervous this time. Just as they were about to hit the rapids, Falan Gearcranker cranked a gear, letting the strange sails fall down to the sides of the ship like the wings of a great bird.

"Locks?" Falan asked as she and the other gnomes pulled their dark goggles over their eyes. "Where we're going, we don't _need _locks."

Kicking a peddle at her feet, a massive balloon filled with air, lifting the ship above the waters. Falan leaned over and spoke into a pipe next to her head. The next instant her voice could be heard all over the ship. "This is the captain to the crew and passengers of Spelljammer Gond's Gears. Keep all hands within the spelljammer at all times or you might fall off the gravity plane. Don't touch anything without asking a crewmember first. Next stop, Waterdeep. We thank you for flying Lantan Air."

Oz grinned. "This is really cool."

"Wait a minute," Angel said. "You people have airplanes, but you don't have indoor plumbing?"

"I knew I should have taken the bloody window seat," Spike grumbled to Dru. She nodded sadly.

* * *

"I wouldn't go too far, Mr. Mayor," said a familiar voice behind him. Richard Wilkins the Third turned around to see a familiar face holding a small crossbow. "We have a bit of business unrelated to the day's usual troubles."

Wilkins raised his arms, dropping the crate he was carrying. His attacker just smiled and shook his head.

"You should put them down. It doesn't matter if you have a weapon anyway. This is tipped with poison, a fast acting poison."

"Now, now Mr. Do'Urden, that isn't very polite," Richard Wilkins said.

"You know, I noticed something strange while going through the library," the attacker said. "You, your father and your grandfather all look exactly alike."

"I'm told the family resemblance is remarkable," Wilkins said with a grin.

"Perhaps you are told that; however only two possibilities come to mind," said the one with the crossbow. "Either you are a clone or you are Richard Wilkins the First."

"What an interesting hypothesis," was the Mayor's sardonic reply.

"You should know that Drow are highly resistant to magic," the crossbowman said. "Those of us with a magical bent can notice such things. There is a certain style that is unique to each caster. The Spell was ingenious, Richard. Truly remarkable. But it isn't perfect."

"I suppose you think you've figured out everything, haven't you?"

"Not everything." The Drizzt said. "I haven't figured out exactly how to make it hurt worst." He grabbed the Mayor by the neck and pulled some spell components from his belt pouch. "Come here you surface scum."

"Gosh darn it, you shouldn't be rude to your elders, young man," chided the Mayor strictly. The Drizzt raised an eyebrow. Wilkins just shook his head disapprovingly.

The Fighter-Thief-Mage Drizzt snarled out an arcane phrase and the world moved. All Mayor Wilkins saw was darkness. He promptly walked into something, stubbing his toe.

"Of course you wouldn't be able to see with your human eyes, old man." Wilkins heard someone moving around in the blackness. "Heh, I guess Big Brother didn't lie. It really is destroyed."

A force of will lit up the ruins of House Do'Urden with the inborn Drow power of Faerie Fire. Burnt and toppled towers sprung up in the gloom of darkness. The Mayor watched as the transdimentional copy of Drizzt Do'Urden posed with excessive theatrics in the ruins. "Welcome to Menzoberranzan, Mayor Wilkins."


	40. Chapter 40

**~~Yellow Press~~**

part 1**  
**

* * *

_Buffy and company is owned by Joss W._  
_The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction._  
_Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi._

_Notes: a little language warning. I used some naughty words. And as always, thanks for all the help goes to Janessa Ravenwood, this story wouldn't be the same at all._

* * *

Lights flashed and shutters snapped as Deputy Mayor Allan Finch walked up to the podium. The small gaggle of reporters swarmed around him. Hundreds of Sunnydale residents watched on TV as the emergency press briefing commenced.

"Some of you have already heard the rumors, but Mayor Richard Wilkins III has been missing for a week. In this time the military, the Initiative and our other startup civilian agencies have put all our efforts into finding him. According to our seers in the Initiative we only know that he is still alive. They claim that ambient magical energy is interfering with their divinations. As the assassin known as Prisoner Do'Urden has also escaped, we believe that he may have been involved. However, that is simple speculation."

"Mr. Deputy, who is running the government right now?"

"As the Deputy Mayor, I am currently in charge for the time being."

"Is Sunnydale going to war with Menzoberranzan over this?"

"No. The evidence that Prisoner Do'Urden kidnapped the Mayor is circumstantial at best. As per the Mayor's own wishes, he wants us to take care of the city and her people first, and to look for him only if everyone is safe. Months ago, when we first understood what had happened, he gave me explicit instructions on what to do in the case of his disappearance or death. Unlike a true national government, there was not really a line of succession. According to Mayor Wilkins' wishes I will be acting Mayor until elections will be held in three months."

"What kind of elections are we talking about?"

"The current cabinet will be discussing exactly how this is going to work tomorrow, but I will sum up the basic plan we have set forth. There will be democratic elections in the upcoming months. Sunnydale and the new villages outside the city proper will be split up into voting regions. Each region will elect their representatives. Political factions will have to be registered by the end of the month. This will be using the European system of many parties rather than the US system of two. It was decided that two parties would not accurately portray the needs and wants of the increasingly diverse nature of the new Sunnydale, so we must seek to give everyone a voice in every faction."

"Won't this make the political scene more chaotic?"

"In a way, yes, but it will more accurately portray Sunnydale in its entirety. Citizens will be able to vote upon turning 18. As per the Mayor's wishes, the orc village to the west, now under the auspice of the Ilneval voting region, will be included in Sunnydale as residents and will be eligible to vote as full citizens. This will also apply to nonviolent intelligent non-humans currently in Initiative incarceration on a case by case basis."

"Why are the orcs getting a cart blanche towards citizenship?"

"You might recall that the Mayor did so for all human illegal residents when Sunnydale arrived here. They will have to work hard to be part of our society and they will be under our laws. We cannot expect to enforce laws on people who are not our citizens. That makes us no better than tyrants."

"Where will the representatives meet?"

"For now they will meet in the large conference room in City Hall, but we hope to have a proper capitol building in place by next fall."

"Mr. Finch, will you be running?"

There was a long pause before Allan Finch responded.

"I never wanted to be anything more than a civil official. I think I have done well in that regard when it comes to my work as the Deputy Mayor of Sunnydale. I never wanted to be anything more. That said, I will not be running for the position of President, Prime-Minister, Grand-Poobah or whatever-you-want-to-call-it of the _Nation_ of Sunnydale. I will, however, be running for the position of Mayor of the _city_of Sunnydale. I would be the head of the city and have the city council to discuss things with, but there would be no national responsibility on my shoulders. There are others better at international politics than I."

"So who is running?"

"Anyone who wishes to run should apply in person at the Sunnydale City Hall where we will be forming a multilateral electoral committee. No one who is married to, related to or in relations with anyone running will be on the committee. We want to keep this clean and make sure there is as little corruption as possible."

"How is this going to impact the Summit of the North that we have been hearing rumors about?"

"The Summit will be continuing. We want that to be a symbol of unity and trade. By tossing it up because of our own problems we are disregarding everything that we want to show. Instead of the vernal equinox we will be having the Sunnydale Expo and Summit five weeks after the new government takes office."

* * *

A week passed. Housecraft was running; William Kendall, the vainest man in Sunnydale and the father of Harmony Kendall, was running; and Butters, a fyarl demon with no pants, was running. There was talk of others running but that was it at this point. There was still a month for people to register as candidates. Rumors were that Jesus Juan Rodriguez, the Latino leader, was considering a run. Despite expectations, the Shaman of Ilneval was not running, having surprised everyone by taking the separation of church and state seriously. Which is what he said to the press, dressed up in a custom made suit and translation amulet.

"I want orcs to be better than they are. I want them to grow and learn and then teach their younger generations."

"Then wouldn't you running help in that goal?" the woman asked, before holding the microphone in front of the Shaman.

"One cannot serve two masters. I serve Ilneval. I cannot also serve Sunnydale with all its wants and needs. Any priest who thinks they can is a fool and a dangerous man." The orc shaman stood up straight and pulled slightly on his lapels like he saw the Mayor do on occasion.

"Is that a reference to Samuel Housecraft, the Baptist preacher who has chosen to run?" the reporter for Sunnydale Daily News had a glint in her eye like she had just caught the perfect story.

"As I said, you cannot serve two masters. One must be ignored to take care of the other's needs. One can lie and pretend to serve both, but one can never truly serve so."

"So who will you be voting for in the upcoming election?"

"I will vote for who will help my people best. I shall listen and I shall vote according to what Ilneval tells me in my soul. I will know what is right."

"Are you going to tell your people who to vote for?"

"No. If one does not play the game, one is a cheater is he not? They will know for themselves who to vote for."

"What do you think of William Kendall?"

"I do not know. I have not heard him speak so I will not say."

"What about Butters?"

"Anyone who wears no pants in this weather is a powerful being, but not a true leader. If we all took our pants off in this biting cold, there would be no further generations, if one can understand my meaning. I will not be voting for Butters."

"Thank you, Shaman."

* * *

"Get up, monkey," snarled Copy-Drizzt. The Mayor stood up slowly, but the drow grabbed him by the arm. "We have an audience with Matron Baenre."

The Mayor had been living in two of the few remaining cells in House Do'Urden for two weeks. A wall had fallen between them creating a sort-of two room suite. He survived on water and what little food Copy-Drizzt was allowing him to have. He had made his own latrine and tried to keep his body as clean as possible. Luckily for him, the ancient aqueducts that once provided running water now were funneling water directly into his cell. His sleeping area was mostly dry, but the rest was very wet. The water was warm and kept him clean and moderately healthy. He had lost some weight in the meantime and was looking rather good, if he did say so himself.

"So who is this Matron Baenre?"

"She is the undisputed leader of all Menzoberranzan," Copy-Drizzt said as he dragged the human along after him. "Nothing happens in this city without her agreement, regardless of whether she gives permission or not."

"Something of a tyrant, I'm guessing."

"By other humans' standards, yes, but I don't think you have the right to talk."

"I happen to be a very good Mayor. I always keep my campaign promises."

"I doubt you were ever elected."

"Oh, no. I'm very serious about politics. Very serious."

"So is Matron Baenre."

The gates of House Baenre were made of mystical spider webs that were stronger adhesives than nearly anything else. Anything that touched them stuck and set off alarms. Luckily for Copy-Drizzt, he was expected. The gates opened for him and he entered the compound, dragging his human captive behind him. Guards, the real ones, patrolled along side the two, watching their every move. Faerie fire lit up the pathways so even Mayor Wilkins could see the terrifying beauty of House Baenre. Soon they were lead into an exquisite dome where an ancient drow sat on a glowing, hovering disk. She emanated power from her clothing and the gems on her fingers to the bauble around her neck and the icy glare she placed on Copy-Drizzt and his captive. Her daughters were no less imposing, standing behind her with their hands resting on their snake headed whips and Lloth's heads over their breasts. It was beautiful and it was impressive and it was oppressive. Beauty and Terror were one.

"So," she said. "This is not something I expected. Drizzt Do'Urden to return without his siblings or Bregan D'arth. And dragging something behind him no less. Speak."

"Yes, Honored Matron," Copy-Drizzt said in reverence. "I, however, am not the Drizzt your pet was sent to find. I am actually from a slightly different world altogether." He continued speaking, telling her of his upbringing. He told her of his blooding. Of his exploits in bringing House Do'Urden far in the political sphere of Menzoberranzan politics. He told of his incarceration in Sunnydale and his escape. "And this, Honored Matron, is Mayor Wilkins, the leader of that new city. I offer him as a gift to you. Anything he knows or possesses is yours and his city is ripe for the picking."

Matron Baenre was not amused.

"I have no need of a surface city," she said. "Kill the human. The male will be sacrificed to Lloth."

Before Copy-Drizzt could stop it, he watched as a sword cut through the Mayor's back and out the front. He spun around and blocked a sword coming from the other direction. He dispatched his attacker, killed another and then everything paused as the Mayor got back up.

"Golly gee, now that wasn't very nice, now was it?" protested the Mayor as if speaking to a three year old. He dusted himself off and picked at the sword hole in his suit. "That was the only suit I brought with me. No needle and thread is going to fix that slice. And the tie, my granddaughter bought me that for Christmas one year."

Matron Baenre grinned, her teeth stark white against her onyx skin. "Drizzt Do'Urden, I would say you have earned yourself a stay of execution."

* * *

Samuel Housecraft was an imposing man. In his late 40's, he was over two meters tall and had a presence about him that he had built from years of evangelizing and proselytizing. His hair was still mostly black, but his face had a pale, cadaverous complexion that made him look more like Lurch from the Addams Family than your friendly neighborhood preacher.

"Mr. Housecraft, you are something of a controversial figure here in Sunnydale," the reporter said. "Why have you, a preacher and evangelist, chosen to run for public office?"

"Though I respect Mayor Wilkins for getting us through these difficult few months, I disagree greatly with the direction he has taken Sunnydale," Housecraft said. "Though I must admit we are not in Hell, there are still many souls in this town that need saving."

"Would you please elaborate on that?"

"This obsession with 'magic' is a stain upon our souls. The Bible tells us that sorcery is a sin," Housecraft began. "We must cleanse our society of this evil. Only through the work of our own hands, a good and Christian task, can we save ourselves and the souls of those poor people slaving away. It is our holy duty to be charitable towards them and save them from the sins they have embraced."

"So you have no problem proclaiming your faith?"

"No, I think we need a firm hand in this new world and my faith can give me that power," the preacher said.

"The Shaman of Ilneval says one cannot serve two masters, how would you respond to that?"

"The good orc would be most mistaken. My faith tells me how to act, how to speak and how to treat my neighbors. God doesn't just guide me, he guides all of us. In that I am always serving one master."

"Thank you, Mr. Housecraft."

"It was a pleasure."

* * *

The reporter pointed to the right screen as Housecraft finished. "You see that? He just lost the election."

"You really think so, Molly?" her boss asked. He was a middle-aged man whose waist was about the same as his age. "I don't know, he's got a lot of followers. They aren't going to like you asking him hard questions."

"I don't play softball, Joe," Molly said, taking the tape out of the machine. "There isn't any corporate office to tell me to hold off. I'm going for the kill and I'm going to do it whenever I want."

"Just be careful," Joe said as he took a big bite from his sub. Molly made a face as the juices squirted out onto his shirt. "You remember that girl that got attacked? Well, rumor has it he's the one who started it all."

"Amy Madison? Yeah, I know he's the slimebag who told them without telling them," Molly said. "Housecraft is smart. He knows no one will arrest him so long as he doesn't take any action or directly tell people to kill or attack. He's willing to throw around words like 'evil' or 'sin' but he always phrases it like he's looking out for everybody else."

"Just be careful, I don't want you to get hurt in this."

"Joe, just wait. I haven't even started yet."

* * *

Ranma stood in front of his students. His class had grown. Somehow word had gotten out and every day more people arrived at the site. Some went to watch, but others honestly wanted to learn. He was now teaching three classes of martial arts, each of a different level.

The beginners class was the largest by far. This was where most of the soldiers were forced to remain until Ranma deemed them disciplined enough to move up. Unfortunately, orc culture was so focused on rage that they were still mostly considered beginners. Some parents who brought their children to class were concerned by the presence of the soldiers (Ranma had mentally put all the members of his original class into the category of 'soldiers' for ease of remembering them), but Ranma eased their own worries by bringing his own children to class. He then started encouraging parents of bullies to start bringing their kids to class to give them some discipline as well.

The middle level was much smaller and consisted of those who had achieved enough skill and discipline to advance. There were only fifteen people in the class. Five of them were people who had practiced martial arts before and had the discipline Ranma demanded. The other ten were people who advanced from the beginner's class.

The third class consisted of three students and he was married to one of them. Akane Tendo worked as hard at her art as she always had. This time she actually had someone who respected her. It had taken a long time for them to get where they needed to be, but Ranma was finally getting over his fear of hurting her. He was training her so she wouldn't be hurt in the future. But what really surprised Ranma was how fun it was. He had spent so much time agonizing over it that he never realized how much more they could do.

Drizzt Do'Urden was the second student of the final class. The dark elf had felt like he was loosing his edge. He needed to learn how to adapt. Ranma was not sure what had happened, but there had been some paradigm shift in the elf's world view recently. Fighting without weapons was new to the elf and seemed to be an interesting challenge. He adapted almost as well as Ranma did himself, but his technique was much less refined…

The final slot had gone to an individual that Ranma had found looking lost and alone. Kaanry Vhok was the most unusual student. The cambion was looking for something to do. He had quickly found himself better than almost anyone else at any physical activity he wanted to do. Martial arts had been a challenge. Ranma had to admit he had the discipline required and he had plenty of experience at martial pursuits. The Art, on the other hand, was something different, something to dedicate one's life towards.

* * *

"Excuse me! Missus? Missus Maclay? I'd like to have a word," Molly called out, running after the blonde woman. The middle-aged witch looked over her shoulder and pulled her shoulders back.

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"As one of the most active members of the magical community I wanted to get your opinion on the upcoming election," Molly asked. The older blonde woman shook her head sadly.

"I'll be frank, it seems rushed," Evelyn Maclay replied. "We usually have a long time to see what each candidate has to offer and where they stand. With just three months it doesn't seem like we have enough time to really make a decision."

"What are your opinions on the candidates so far?"

"I know nothing about Mr. Kendall, but Housecraft would be a horrible choice," the older witch said. "Anyone who encourages attacks on teenaged girls would ruin us all."

"Are you talking about the attack on Amy Madison?"

"Yes," Evelyn Maclay growled through gritted teeth.

"But there was no evidence that he was directly involved."

"Just because he didn't say 'go hit that girl with a brick' doesn't mean he didn't tell them to do it," the witch said. "Just listen to his sermons. He labels us as sinners and devil worshippers. He's a bigot. And worse, he's a bigot with power."

"He seems to have the fastest growing congregation in Sunnydale," Molly said. "That must mean that some people think he has the right idea."

"Yeah, well, some people thought the same about Hitler and we all know how that worked out," Evelyn said with just a hint of a snarl.

"You're comparing him to Hitler?"

"All he needs is the mustache."

* * *

"It's perfect, Joe," Molly said in the viewing room. "We'll be able to show the special this weekend."

"Molly, it looks like you're targeting him," Joe said worriedly. "You're turning the witch hunt back around at him. Whatever happened to fair reporting?"

"It never existed. The man's a bigot. He's no different from Strom Thurman running on the Segregation ticket back in the day," Molly said. "He's just found a segment of the population that isn't explicitly covered by the civil rights laws."

"Just try to get the other side, too," Joe said, a worried look on his face.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm just going to use psychology on _my_side," Molly said.

"What side is that?"

"Whatever gets me a story."

* * *

Jesus Juan Rodriguez was just about to step into the Constitutional Committee meeting when Molly Rogers caught up behind him.

"Mr. Rodriguez, I was wondering if I could have a few moments of your time," she asked, holding out the microphone in front of her.

"Of course, but I must be in the meeting soon," he said.

"I was just wondering if the rumors of you running for President were true," Molly asked.

"No, they are not. I'll be running for our local representative in my district, but I will not be running for a federal position," he replied.

'Ah, stepping stone,' Molly thought to herself. "Then could I get your opinion on those who have already put forth their candidacy?"

"I have not made a decision. When I have you can ask me then."

"How will I know when that will be?"

"You won't," he said with a smile as he pushed the door open, kicking some snow out of the way.

"What platform are you running on for representative?"

"That I will do what is best for Sunnydale and for the people who vote for me," he said. "If you want any more, approach me at a time when I am not late for a meeting."

"Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez."

* * *

Weeks passed and things changed. It ended up with Kendall running on an isolationist platform. This was getting mixed reviews from all sides.

"Mr. Kendall, why do you support isolationism?"

"We need to look out for ourselves first, not worry about the surroundings," he said. "Every time we let one of these monsters in, we have to feed them, clothe them and clean up after them. They aren't producing anything to warrant the cost. I feel we need to strengthen our borders and start working on our own industries first."

"But won't that be a clear step backwards from Mayor Wilkins' work since the Shift?" Molly asked getting into the heavy parts of it.

"Yes, to a degree," Kendall said. "But SunnyRail is a worthless endeavor for us. It's too costly. We should be using the iron and building up our own industries here, not other places. We need a strong base first before we can build upwards."

"You have frequently been heard speaking against the amount Mayor Wilkins asked of the general populace, what exactly do you see as the worst thing he's done?" Molly asked.

"Requiring manual labor of everyone," Kendall said. "Using hard labor as a punishment is something we got rid of a long time ago. He was being a tyrant with that. Then there are the taxes he's putting on us in terms of labor. We can't build up our society if we're always doing something for someone else."

"What would the first big change you would make if elected?"

"I would remove the businesses currently run by the government and put them back into private hands. I don't want the government telling me how much a doctor can see me for or what banks I can go to. We're becoming practically a communist state."

"Those are some powerful words," Molly said. "How do you think you'll match up against John Housecraft in the upcoming elections?"

"Even if we don't agree, I think that John and I will both have a good go of it and try our best," Kendall said, not really answering the question.

"Any last things you want to say to the voting public?"

"I promise less taxes, less invasion under the auspice of immigration, and better wages," Kendall said before walking away. When he vanished into the building, Molly shared a high five with her cameraman.

"What a maroon!" Molly snickered as the man passed out of sight.


	41. Chapter 41

~~Yellow Press~~

Part 2

* * *

"Shaman, I'd like to say that this is completely off the record," Molly said, meeting with the orcish leader once more.

"I must say I am rather surprised by your visit," the Shaman said.

"Well, I was concerned about how your people would deal with the new electoral system," Molly admitted half truthfully.

"You are a conniving woman, Miss Rogers, what do you have in mind?"

"It's very simple. Too often people assume that they must vote for the people running, but there's always other possibilities," Molly said. "In an election dealing with millions of people it doesn't always work, but in a case like ours you have the potential to make a splash."

"What is this cunning plan of yours?"

She told him and the Shaman of Ilneval started to grin. "That is a plan Ilneval Himself would be proud of."

* * *

"Buffy Summers!" Molly Rogers ran up behind the blonde, her cameraman close behind. "Could I have a word?"

"You're not supposed to be talking to me, remember?"

"Sorry, but that stopped working as soon as you turned 18," Molly said with a grin. "We won't talk to your friends who are under 18, but as soon as they cross that threshold they're fair game."

"Well, fine, just play nice and maybe I'll answer some questions," Buffy said with a huff. Molly grinned wider and winked at the cameraman. He started rolling.

"Molly Rogers here with Buffy Summers, the Slayer and one of Sunnydale's most important citizens," the reporter said to the camera. She turned back to Buffy. "Buffy, I wanted to get your opinion on the upcoming presidential elections. We've all noticed that you haven't supported a candidate and we were wondering your opinion on the process."

"Well, I'm no politician and I'm not qualified to talk about that," Buffy said.

"What about your opinion on the candidates?"

"I won't vote for either of them," Buffy said. "I mean, really, Housecraft's people hit one of my good friends with a brick. Instead of apologizing for the actions of one of his people, he just calls Amy a sinner and a demon-worshipper. That's not right. That's not something I'm going to forget."

"What about Kendall?"

"Kendall creeps me out," Buffy said. She looked apologetically into the camera. "Sorry, Harmony, but your dad's got it all wrong. We can't build if we don't expand, and we need people to expand. Where are those people going to come from? If he thinks women are going to become baby factories for him he's freaking nuts!"

Molly Rogers grinned inwardly like she had just won the Powerball. That last statement might have been rambling and not something Kendall had really said, but it was a legitimate extension of his line of thought. Or at least that's what Molly was going to say.

"I noticed you said 'either' of the participants," Molly said, keeping up the questioning. "What about the third candidate, Butters?"

Buffy sighed and looked into the camera again. "Butters, if you're watching this, you need a platform. If you don't tell people what you stand for, no one is going to take you seriously. It's the way the game is played. And _please_ put on some pants."

"So who are you going to vote for?"

"I don't know that I am going to vote," Buffy said. "I know that I'm supposed to take advantage of my opportunities and this is a big one, but I can't bring myself to vote for a bigot or a guy who doesn't know the first thing about running a country. This isn't a corporation. I'd vote for my own mother before I'd vote for any of them."

"You do know that you can write in names if you don't like the candidates, right?"

"No, I didn't know that," Buffy said. "But I like that it gives us more options."

* * *

Former Mayor Wilkins was relaxing as the drow inquisitors worked on his back. To anyone else it would look like they were bludgeoning him with spiked maces, to the Mayor in his current state, it was more like a nice deep massage.

"Ooo, a little more to the left please," he said.

"When will you explain your state?", inquired one of them.

"What? Gosh darn it, in today's society you can't get privacy anywhere," the man lamented. "Well, California was originally home to a wide variety of indigenous tribes, Chumash and others, in the south near where Sunnydale came from."

That earned him another pummeling with the maces.

"Thanks, that got that knot right out of my shoulder," Richard Wilkins said with a grin. "Would it be possible to get my abs done next? I have to admit that I haven't been working out as much as I should have. The problems of government, you know."

"You know what I mean!" snarled the younger daughter of Matron Baenre. "Explain your current state!"

"Well, I'm mostly solid with a variety of liquids in various parts, specifically my blood is liquid," he said, gleefully explaining the states of matter. "I bring in air to my lungs, which is a gas by the way, which spreads absorbed oxygen into my bloodstream. Your air is quite thick down here, have you ever noticed that?"

She lashed out with her scourge, the snake heads biting deep into his skin.

"Now that's not very nice," he said with a frown. "You young ladies really need to learn common courtesy. And your torture techniques could use a bit of refining. What's the point of torturing someone who doesn't feel any pain?"

The drow priestess just growled in frustration as she threw her hands up in the air. Fury emanating from her every pore, she stalked out of the dungeon. Wilkins turned to his other torturers.

"Any chance I could get a sandwich?"

* * *

"Mr. Finch!"

The deputy Mayor turned to see Sunnydale's foremost not-so-mild mannered reporter running up towards him. Strangely enough, he didn't see a camera.

"What can I do for you, Miss Rogers?" he asked politely.

"Could we speak inside? I've got a proposition for you," she said with a smile. He was on his lunch break, so he had the time. Nodding, he let her into his office. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking about what you said about equality in the elections," she replied. "And I had an idea. Instead of running mates, have the second highest vote count be the vice president."

"Actually we were thinking along the same lines. It would force people to come together to make decisions, rather than break up along party lines," Finch said. "There is still the problem of assassination attempts, but we're working on a form of the Secret Service as we speak."

"I'm glad to hear it," she said. Finch eyed her suspiciously.

"Now what do you have up your sleeve?" he asked.

"Oh, I think you'll like it," she said with a slightly evil grin. "It goes like this…"

She went on to explain the details of her plan. It was manipulative, it was not very sporting, but it was completely in line with the laws of Free Press.

"You are a very scary person, Miss Rogers," Finch said honestly.

"Thanks, Mr. Finch!"

* * *

"Buffybuffybuffybuffy!" The girl in question turned around to see a bouncing redheaded witch gleefully holding a large leather bound book. This redhead was not the one from the night before, but actually Buffy's friend Willow Rosenberg. Willow was pumped full of energy in such a way that usually involved caffeinated enhancement.

"Hey, Wills, how's it going?"

"I think I solved a lot of problems!" Willow exclaimed, clutching the book in two hands.

"Uh, that's good, what problems are those?" Buffy asked, genuinely confused.

"Sunnydale's!" Willow said as if it explained everything. Buffy rested a hand on her arm. "Food, lumber, ecological destruction!"

"Okaaay…Willow, let's go to the library and start at the beginning," Buffy said, leading her friend down the hallway. The library was a bit on the empty side now that Giles' special books had been moved to the Initiative Library. Even then, hanging out in a military complex just didn't have the same feel as the coziness of the school library where they had hung out for two years. Now, in their senior year of high school the library was largely abandoned by the students as everyone was trying to figure out what to do with life in general. "So what did you figure out?"

"This book! The one the guy from the Zhentarim trader gave me!" Willow said, waving the book triumphantly in the air. She grinned and bounced. "I'm so cool!"

"Yes, but why this time?" Buffy was actually getting more confused not less. "Wasn't that book just a listing of religious prayers in common religions? What does that have to with Sunnydale's problems?"

"They're _spells!_ The prayers are _spells!_ Spells for _every_thing!" Willow announced.

"Okay, still cool, but go with the 'splainy."

"So, Snyder's' cactus? I made it huge!" Willow said, punctuating her statements with wide arms. "It's like twenty feet tall. Well, not twenty, but it's like six tall and six wide. But still huge! And Ms. Beacon, the biology teacher with the bonsai on her desk, I totally made it grow, but that was different, it just twisted around and got old, but still small 'cuz that's the point. And in math class, I made leaves and roots sprout from my desk."

"Wait, aren't those desks made of chewed up wood bricky things?"

"I _know!_ Isn't it cool?" Buffy had to admit that it was, but before she could agree, Willow turned to the central library desk and held out a hand. "_Silvanus, champion of the wild, Treefather, give me your strength and revive this deadened wood."_

"Wills, you sure you should be doing that in here?" But by the time she said it, Buffy knew it was too late. A glow fell like glittering stardust around Willow, spinning around and condensing in her hand. The glow settled on the table and transformed it before their very eyes. The legs turned into roots that dove into the ground beneath the library, the top sent shoots upwards. The arms shot out branches like fingers reaching towards the sky with leaves sprouting from fingertips. A short moment later, the table was still a table, but alive. It had an impressive crown that nearly touched the library's skylight. "Wow, that is cool."

She glanced away, not noticing that the tree's shadow didn't match the shape. It was dark, twisted and it writhed as if it were a mass of decapitated snakes in their death throes. If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed a tinge of something else, a hint beyond the normal.

"But that's not all!" Willow wiggled her nose and gave a succinct little nod. With loud pop, the table tree grew cherries. Willow grinned as she _plucked_ one off a branch and popped it into her mouth. "_Dey taest weel guuud tu."_

Buffy thought she saw a wisp of shadowy mist blowing off the cherry, but she dismissed it as part of the spell. "Didn't Giles say that was an oak desk?"

"Oops," Willow said. She wiggled her nose again and the cherries turned into acorns that promptly fell all over the floor, sent out roots and started sprouting themselves. Willow clapped her hands together twice and the magical acorns stopped growing. Turning towards Buffy, she took the cherry pit from her mouth and tossed it behind her. As Willow babbled on about the other kinds of spells in the book, Buffy glanced behind the redhead and realized that the cherry pit had sprouted tiny root legs and a tiny leaf hat. It gave Buffy a sharp little salute before scampering down the hallway.

"Uh, Willow, I'm all cool with the whole magic thing, but aren't you taking it a little too fast? I mean, Snyder isn't gonna be happy when…oh crinkles, hide!" Buffy pulled Willow into the closet not a moment too soon.

"Rosenberg! Summers! I know you're behind this and you're both getting detention until you graduate when I catch you!" Snyder snarled, storming into the library.

"_Shar, Mistress of all Shadows, cloak us with your power,"_ Willow muttered. There was a moment of glow before the two of them were hidden from view. Just in time, too, since Snyder threw open the closet door a moment later. His entire coat was covered in thick cactus spikes that miraculously had not pierced his skin.

"Damn it, where did they go?" the principal muttered under his breath as he glanced around the closet. He soon gave up and stalked out the library door. As the doors swung closed both young women let out sighs of releaf, er, relief. Buffy looked at Willow. The young witch seemed to be breathing shadows. They fluttered in and out of her mouth as her chest heaved. Her eyes seemed haunted by another presence. She wore a half maddened grin on her face that sent shivers up Buffy's spine. Her Slayer Sense was tingling.

"Willow, I think you need to slow down," Buffy said as she grabbed her friend by the shoulders. "You're scaring me. I don't like that. You need to slow down and take it one step at a time." There was a long moment as they stared into each other's eyes.

"_Freeze,"_ Willow said. Buffy hissed as the spell fell on her. The Slayer's arms felt like they had been soaked in icewater, numb and nearly devoid of movement. Buffy's breath caught in her throat, letting her breathe only in short, harsh rasps. The redhead scampered away long before the spell wore off. Buffy took a deep breath and ran out of the library after her friend.

She turned a corner and ran right over Principal Snyder before he could even register that it was Buffy. She slid into the school cafeteria. She glanced around at the eyes staring at her. "Has anyone seen Willow?" The entire eating population shook their heads. Buffy scooted out the door a second later and ran right into Snyder again. He was about to chastise her, when Buffy spotted Willow climbing on her bike out in the parking lot. Buffy ignored the stammering of the short balding troll of a man and shot out the window and into the snow, slamming the window shut behind her.

"Willow, you need to stop!" she screamed as she ran towards the parking lot.

"_Mother of Darkness, give me swiftness of foot and the grace of a cat,"_ Willow said, steering with one hand and clutching the book to her chest with the other. She began peddling with unnatural speed, passing through the snow-covered street with supernatural ease. "_Let your heat protect me from the cold."_

Shadowy flames sprung up about her feet as she tromped away. Snow melted with every step, the instant sublimation cracking the sidewalk with sudden heat.

"Willow, stop!" Buffy said as she started running up along side her friend. "You're going overboard!"

"No! I won't stop. Every time I'm happy about something you have to take it away! I won't let you do it this time!" Willow yelled back. "When I first had a boyfriend you thought it was weird! When I started with Oz, you just thought about yourself and your vampire angst! Not this time! I'm not giving up my power just because you feel threatened!"

"I'm not scared for me, I'm scared for _you_!" Buffy said, easily keeping up with the magically enhanced bicycle. This was nothing compared to the night before; even with her magical power, Buffy was having an easy time keeping up with the young witch. "Your first boyfriend was a demon robot, so I was _right!_ Oz was different!"

Willow seemed to turn to face the Slayer in slow motion. As she turned her head, Buffy watched as Willow's hair was stained with black and her eyes became pools of darkness. Willow opened her mouth and a cone of darkness shot out at Buffy, entangling her limbs and diving down her throat. Buffy's breath caught as if she were being slowly strangled. She slipped on the light dusting of snow, falling into a tangle of limbs as she skidded to a stop. Willow just continued riding off down the road.

"I wondered if this would happen," commented Dark Willow from where she hovered next to Buffy. She waved a hand, dispelling Willow's Sharran curse. "I need you to distract her for a short while, lead her to a park or secluded area. This may have some collateral damage."

"Do you always fly around like that?"

"It beats walking and burns more calories," was the dry response. Buffy wasn't sure if it was a joke or serious, but at this point it didn't matter.

"What happened to her?"

"That book is…tainted…shall we say, by a source of Darkness and Shadow," Dark Willow said. She wore a brief smirk as if half remembering something. "I guess Yoda was right."

"What?"

"Never mind," Dark Willow said. "She is calling on the Shadow Weave. If we don't stop her, well, there won't be anyone to stop her. Right now she has power equaling mine, but it isn't hers and she doesn't realize it. The more she uses that power, the more it will corrupt her."

"Okay…but aren't you…you know?"

"Evil?" Dark Willow glanced down at the Slayer with an amused look on her face. "Nothing in this world is that simple. While I embraced the darkness of my own free will, my interdimensional twin does not realize what she is doing. The forces that currently have her under their sway are some of the most primal of this world and should they take hold, she has the potential to be the most dreadful champion of ruin. I may have been in a bad place, but I think I've found a better way…although that took some time."

"I'll pretend I understood that Giles-type speech and go cut her off at the pass," Buffy said as she pointed in the direction Willow had vanished.

"Good choice."

* * *

As it ended up, Butters had changed his approach based on Buffy's interview. He started running on a platform of free will or anarchy – it was a little hard to decipher.

"So, Mr. Butters," Molly began.

"Just Butters," said the _sans pants_ demon. They had given him a translation amulet for the interview.

"What exactly do you believe in?"

"Many things," he began. "I feel that the government that governs least is most important. Personal freedoms are better than laws. Peoples' actions will determine their place in society."

"You're very well spoken and restrained for a fyarl demon, how is that?"

"Oh, I wore a hat to Clem's Halloween party and had a very eventful night as Abraham Lincoln," Butters explained. "I think that we need to have more parties and less meetings. People can do what they want to do, and we shouldn't have a bureaucracy butting in. Freedom for all, except for dead people and chupacabras, nasty little things."

"Are those political parties or parties for fun?" our intrepid reporter asked.

"Yes," was his only response. She looked at him as if to ask for further explanation, but there was none.

"Some of the things you've said have come across as promoting anarchy, would you care to explain?"

"What's wrong with anarchy?"

"You're answering a questions with a question?"

"So are you."

"But that doesn't really help the voters get to understand your position."

"Then you should really stop copying me."

"I'm not – wait, cut the camera!" she said, pushing it away. It was still on, but Molly was trying to coach the poor fyarl demon into a better presentation. "Butters, you have to explain what you're focusing on."

"So you and others can make fun of me on television and your comedians can impersonate me on your Saturday night shows?"

"No…so people can decide whether to vote for you or not."

Butters just gave her a look that was three parts confusion, two parts understanding and one part madness. Molly sighed in exasperation and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, just think over your positions and we'll do this again."

* * *

Life had changed in the weeks since Richard Wilkins had been kidnapped. Life in House Baenre was actually rather nice, all jails considered. He was fed, he was clothed and he was allowed to clean. Actually, some of his habitual cleanliness had a sort of trickle up effect with the higher ups finally understanding some basic hygiene not involving magical power. The slave death rate had been cut almost in half.

He was 'interrogated' daily. Most people would call it torture, but in his current state, there wasn't much pain, although it did disrupt his normal schedule. They were fascinated by his instant regeneration. Wounds healed as soon as the weapon was pulled out. They finally allowed him to disrobe before their tender sessions. They had learned the hard way when it came to his vocal nature on the subject.

The topics included his origin, his history and his city. He answered in vague statements that really didn't give much away that he didn't want to give away. It infuriated them and amused him, which (of course) infuriated them further. House Baenre was careful to keep his presence a secret from the rest of Menzoberranzan. There was no need for them to know, after all. As such, Richard Wilkins' only interaction was with the immediate Baenre family, usually Gromph, but occasionally one of the priestesses would try some new spell to hurt him. None worked as intended, but one spell did cause him to laugh hysterically for a hour.

On this particular day he was interrupted during a very important meal. A dark shadow fell on his particular meal. He looked up to see the now familiar face of the elder Baenre daughter with her ever-present snake headed whip. The look of disgust on her face was priceless. She always wore it when she was sent for messenger duty.

"What are you doing?"

"Just having a light snack. How are you?"

That earned him a whip to the face as always. He shrugged it off. It never hurt to be polite. "Matron Baenre desires more knowledge of your city. She wishes to know the status of your tunnels and under-city. She will send for you soon. You are to be presentable when you summoned."

A following slave spread out a set of expensive robes on the stone block bed in his cell.

"I suppose they're still in good condition," he said. "Of course they've never been built to withstand a real winter either."

"Whatever," the eldest Baenre daughter snarled, not realizing the dismissive statement was one she had acquired from the Mayor's diatribes. "Just be presentable when she summons you."

"Of course," he said. "Sorry if I was rude earlier, you caught me when I was eating." He held up his meal on the end of a fork. "Gavrok?"

Her look of disgust was priceless. He shrugged. "They could use some salt and pepper, but they are filling. Though I do suspect I'm not getting enough fiber in my diet these days. When you get to be my age you have to watch out for these things."

The drow priestess bristled and stalked away.

* * *

Buffy chose to take a page from one of the other residents about town. She realized how much time and speed she lost going around obstacles. This time she was going to go over them. Bouncing up between a telephone pole and a building, she hopped onto a roof and ran with small jumps from roof to roof. It wasn't quite perfect roof-hopping, but it was a start.

Willow had been heading towards her family's house. She had rented it to a couple of refugee families and moved in with Giles after they had moved all of her stuff into storage and Giles' place. Giles' current place was pretty crowded considering he had his, Willow's and Ms. Calendar's stuff all in that one rental, _and_he was living with Willow's magic habit which took up more space than the rest of the stuff combined.

Buffy managed to get ahead of her friend and grabbed the tire with both hands, sending Willow flying into the air as the bike suddenly stopped.

"_Shar, grant me a minion to assist me in completing thy request,"_ Willow snarled, still clutching the book. Like wisps of cobwebs spinning together, her conjured creature of darkness seemed built of the existing shadows, rather than being summoned from some other planar realm. Though it was humanoid in it's basic form, it seemed to be made of horror and shadow. The monstrosity was nearly fifteen feet tall, thin as a pole and darker than the deepest night. It caught her and set her back down on the ground.

Then it punched Buffy into a snow bank. There was a distinct cracking sound as the blow landed. The Slayer managed to pull herself up despite the cracked ribs just in time to see it head out towards Lake Sunnydale carrying Willow in its arms.

Lake Sunnydale, the body of water formed by Sunnydale plugging up the valley, had frozen over during the winter, but still was not strong enough for travel due to spring holes, currents and geothermal activity. Willow and her minion seemed to ignore this fact.

The creature itself was taking a stride as long as a midsized car with every step and was starting to run. Shaking the snow out of her clothes, Buffy jumped onto the bike Willow had abandoned and peddled as fast as she could, following right onto the ice. Aiming as best she could, she ran the bike right into the Achilles heel of the creature. It didn't seem to notice, but the bike was totaled. Buffy dove off the bike just before it crashed, rolling to a stop just behind the creature. Finding herself without a weapon, she sunk her fingers into the skin of the conjuration. It snarled in pain as the Slayer made her own ladder out of its flesh.

"Willow, stop it! This isn't you!" Buffy yelled as she grasped the creature's throat. When she got no response, Buffy reached into the flesh, felt what seemed like bone and _pulled._ The creature dropped Willow and clutched at its neck, screaming in pain. Buffy didn't stop until she heard the bone crack. Then she reached for another one. As she was pulling this bone out, she felt shards of darkness slice her skin as a rain of shadowy daggers flew from Willow's outstretched hand. When Buffy grinned instead of letting go, Willow was surprised and lost control over her conjuration.

"Good distraction," Dark Willow said from behind her counterpart. She sunk her fingers into Willow's mind, creating a conduit between them. "Eat _this_, Shar."

An instant later, Willow and Dark Willow were somewhere else. There was no up; there was no down; there was no direction at all. There simply was. The two Willows faced each other with great beings behind them. All at once they were at odds and as one. A grievance that existed before Faerûn was known as such spilled out between the Willows as Mystra faced down Shar.

Now, the mortal mind is a powerful thing. If a mortal was actually capable of understanding the true form of a deity it would go instantly mad. In the presence of multiple such beings, existence would be pretty much meaningless. But the mortal mind cannot comprehend one deity, much less the numbers that showed up alone both sides of this metaphysical line drawn in the sand. So the mortal mind truncates things. An expansive being becomes an anthropomorphized representation of an ideal as the easiest way for the mind to see things is through a lens that shows something familiar, something understandable.

And so the Willows saw Mystra, a dark haired woman of indeterminate skin tone dressed in 70s punk clothes, facing Shar, a dark haired woman of indeterminate skin tone wearing something born of darkness and dungeon punk. Others lined up on either side. Others still were off to the sides, observing.

"She is mine, Mystra! She invoked _me_, not you!" snarled Shar. "She's _MINE!_"

"She didn't know what she was doing, it doesn't count," argued Mystra, brushing dust off her leather jacket. "She didn't make a choice, you made it for her. She is mine. She chose my power."

That is a truncated version of the intercourse. More was understood without being said. There were eons of pent up anger and fury between them. The Shadow Weave was just the latest insult and grasp for power in the exchange. The Willows were just an excuse.

The other deities watched the intercourse. Some were allied, or more accurately pretended to ally, with one side or the other and some had a vested interest in them. Silvanus was present, being the first deity called by Willow, but had been blocked by Shar's surreptitious actions.

"She called to _me_ first!" snarled Silvanus, as he thumped the 'ground' with a tree trunk. "If she is anyone's, she is _mine_. There wouldn't be any issue if Shar hadn't interfered!"

"You stay out of this!" Shar hissed back.

"She was _mine_ before this day!" Mystra bellowed.

Everyone wanted his or her piece of the pie. The Willows were about to become the Archduke Ferdinand and the Black Hand of the divine war.

Eris, having been watching from the sidelines, set down Her popcorn and pointed at Shar. "Fuck-" She said before pointing at Mystra, "-you."

"Fuck you and your little fucking petty arguments," She said. She turned and pointed to Silvanus. "Fuck you, too." She waved her arms to encompass all of them. "Fuck you all, too."

Needless to say, this was not making Her a popular deity right about now. Zed leaned over to his big (but smaller) sister and whispered in her ear. "This is making the Apple incident look like a dropping a cookie on the floor."

"But Paris was cuter," Strife said stuffing her mouth with popcorn and noisily munching it. Zed looked surprised.

"You really think so? I thought he was kind of an ass myself. I thought you like redheads?"

"Yup."

"You're just trying to annoy me again aren't you?"

"Yup."

"I don't care what you think about Sunnydale," Eris continued, ignoring Her offspring. "I don't care about what happened up until now and I don't care about what has happened in your petty little arguments in other places either. This is how it's going to happen: You can all go fuck yourselves. Figuratively or literally, I don't really care, but you were all warned. You were warned _months_ ago. And you chose not to listen. You all know that there is no such thing as control. Free will is more powerful than any of you choose to believe."

"And soon you are going to regret it," She continued, a cruel grin on Her face. "Something is going to happen to throw everything you hold dear down the crapper. It's called _karma_, assholes and it's going to bite you in the ass. And I'll just sit back and laugh."

"You were told not to return," Mystra snarled. "At Netheril."

"Mystryl threatened us, not Mystra," Zed commented. "You didn't learn your lesson that time either. Just as you didn't learn it when the Crown Wars raged across the continent. Wait, you probably justified that by saying it's a demihuman matter and ignored the implications. You never learn your lessons, none of you. You don't learn from others' examples either. So is it going to take another Karsus to teach you of your folly?"

"Unlike _you_, we actually listen to our worshippers," Strife put in. "All three of 'em."

"It is a symbiotic relationship, if you're doing it right," Eris said. "And you're not."

"How _DARE_ some interloper come and lecture me," snarled Shar. "I should destroy you now. There are rules about this Eris. Rules!"

"I wouldn't do that, Shar," Zed said with a smirk. "Mother might be obnoxious at times, but being the patron goddess of complex systems gives her considerable power. She destroyed a nation by setting an apple on a table." He grinned at the obvious confusion on the deities' faces. "Not that you could understand."

"You'll pay for the obnoxious comment," Eris promised before turning back to the war about to start. "But he is otherwise right. As it is, I feel I need to make an example of somebody." She glanced around. "Any volunteers? Anyone want to see if I'm willing or able to back up my threats? Call my bluff? No one? Good choice." She turned back to the ancient bickering deities.

"Mystra, you were directly warned via Lathander. Shar should just know better, a woman of her age acting like a child on the playground. Let me tell you what will happen: You will leave, both of you. There are no claims on Sunnydale. I don't make a claim on Sunnydale. I only have three worshippers there for Christ's sake. (Strife, yes, I know the irony of the statement, but don't interrupt me when I'm on a rant.) But this goes for all of you: Sunnydale belongs to no one. Not me, not Shar, and not Mystra, not ANYone." She glanced around at the thinning crowd. Bhaal gave her one last glare before turning away. "Sunnydale and its people get to make their own decisions. You never know: they might want to keep the gods they've already got." Deities started leaving, going back to their own realms until it was just Mystra, Shar, Eris, Strife and Zed.

Strife smirked at Shar. "You know, for a patron goddess of anarchists you're awfully possessive and concerned about rules and boundaries and stuff."

Shar really, _really_ wanted to strangle the whole family.

"Shouldn't we send her back?" Zed asked, pointing to the Willows who had observed the entire discussion. He wisely held a hand over his sister's mouth so she didn't make things worse. Eris nodded, using her power to send the Willows back where they came from. As their consciousness vanished from that plane of existence they heard one last comment from Strife.

"I mean really, who ever heard of a patron goddess of nihilists? It's a contradiction in terms," said the child deity as the Willows returned to the prime material the exact moment they left, but with a greater understanding and equally greater confusion.

Buffy, still fighting with the conjuration, suddenly fell to the ground as it was abruptly banished. The force of her impact broke the ice and covered her in the frigid water of Lake Sunnydale. Shaking with the cold, Buffy took the four outstretched hands that helped her escape from the depths.

"Are you okay?" asked the Willows in perfect unison. Buffy looked up to see them both with red hair and sparkling eyes. Not a bit of creepy darkness in sight. Different twinsy creepiness instead.

"Are _you_ okay?" Buffy countered. "Tell me later when I'm not suffering from hippothermia. I need dry clothes. I'm starting to hate this lake." She looked at the two of them for a moment. "You guys are acting weird."

"Am I?" asked one, seemingly confused. She seemed stunned, almost as if she had just suffered from a blow to the head.

"I suppose I am," commented the other in the same numb tone.

"Okay, you both need to stop that and get me warm and dry," Buffy commanded. The Willows wiggled their noses and Buffy found herself to be both warm and dry, and perhaps a little bit woozy.

The Willows looked at each other and seemed to have some sort of interchange unspoken between them. Eventually, one of them, Buffy wasn't sure which, flew off. Buffy gave the other Willow a strange look. "What's going on?"

"It's…complicated," Willow said, bending down to take the book out of the snow. "I think I have to leave. I…I don't know how to explain."

"Wait, what?"

"You don't know. You can't know."

"Know what?"

"What I've done. What I've done to myself. What I did to her. What I did to him."

"Whoa Wills, channeling Drusilla here and I'm not Spike, so 'splainy please."

"I can't. You wouldn't…you cannot possibly… I've seen…you're not…I know."

"Kinda going in the other direction," Buffy said a little worried for her friend.

"Go, now _Tara_. Can show. _Knows._ Go!"

And with that, Willow Rosenberg flew off into the sky, following her counterpart leaving Buffy confused and shaken below her.

"Would someone please tell me what's going on?"

* * *

"Giles! Giles! Giles! Giles!"

The Watcher in question looked up from his desk to see his Slayer charging in.

"Buffy? What in heaven's name is the matter?"

"Willow went evil and then evil Willow went good and then they both flew off!"

"Perhaps you should start at the beginning," Giles prompted. One more detailed explanation had the man pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, good lord."

"I know!"

"I heard an 'Oh, Good Lord!' What happened?" Xander asked, bursting into the office, fresh from his afterschool duties as a liaison to the Sunnydale Military. Buffy and Giles filled him in. "Great Scott!"

"I know!" Buffy said. "This is heavy."

"Willow can fly?"

"Both can now!"

"Yes, that particular fact aside, Buffy, do you have the book of spells she was drawing from?"

Buffy, having learned about her Watcher and his books, dutifully handed over the leather bound tome. "Yes, well…I shall have to read this to understand what has happened. Did she say anything before she left."

"Yeah! Lots!"

"…"

"…" Xander tapped the Slayer on the shoulder. "Buffster? I think he's looking to find out what she said. And then you should really go dry off. You're wet and cold again."

"Right!" All that hypothermia was really messing with her mind. She repeated what she could remember Willow saying, but the two men looked at her askance.

"Buffy, is that what Willow said or just how you remember it?" Giles asked.

"Yup, not very grammary of her, but it's what she said," Buffy confirmed.

"Yes, well, Xander is quite right. Go get cleaned up and I'll look this over with a few experts."

* * *

"Tell the council about this subterranean system you have developed, an Undercity of sorts," Matron Baenre commanded. Former Mayor Richard Wilkins was held in chains at a podium in the middle of a great table surrounded by the Matron Mothers of Menzoberranzan's ruling Houses. Leaders from the Sorcere and the Academy were allowed to watch the proceedings to learn of any weaknesses the upcoming invasion might use.

There had been a time of stabbings and beatings to show his invulnerability and the other Matron Mothers were suitably impressed.

"Oh, I had those made so the vampires could move around, but they're a little different now," Mayor Wilkins said. "About half are filled with water, including the basements of many buildings. Sunnydale ended up on a slightly different grade from how it used to be, so we've got some flooding problems in places. But the water's fresh, if a little cold."

"Vampires?" asked one Matron, Richard believed her to be of one of the middle houses, but he didn't know which one.

"Oh gosh, yes, we had quite the colony for some time until that plucky little Slayer killed off the Master and Angelus took a hike with William and Drusilla," the smiling post-human said. He shook his head ruefully. "Gee willikers, I sure miss those tunnels. I had this lovely little place where I did my sacrifices, a nice stone block. I, of course, only use the finest babies in my sacrifices. My constituents don't accept inferior products, after all."

"Constituents?"

"Oh, those responsible for my being in power, you really need to carve a fine line between your mortals' needs and the needs of the _other _citizens in Sunnydale. It was a rather hard balance to find. Took me nearly twenty years to figure it all out, but the CCC was a big help. Upwards, outwards and downwards, I used to say," the Mayor said. He was about to say more, but he heaved over as something started to change. Matron Baenre hesitantly stood up and took step back. Others noticed her reaction and started backing away as well.

"Golly, I thought I'd have more time," Wilkins said with a sheepish look on his face. He was starting to look a little green, and not in the 'I feel sick' way. "Urp! Gosh darn it, I had this whole section on the importance of civil liberties, but I guess that's just a baby tossed out with the bath water at this point."

The interdimensional version of Drizzt Do'Urden stood up in the sudden realization that he may have made a big mistake. He winced as the chamber echoed with the sound of wrenching metal as the adamantine chains holding the prisoner snapped and fell away. A very _big_ mistake…now literally starting to loom over him…


	42. Chapter 42

.**  
**

**Arm the Election and Damn the Torpedoes**

* * *

**Night of the Proofreader**

[The scene opens on a well-known white-haired zoologist in a television studio.]

**MARLIN PERKINS: **Welcome to Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. I'm here with my co-host Jim Fowler for another thrilling and educational episode. This week we're going to be examining the Great White Proofreader. Why don't you tell us about this fascinating creature, Jim?

**JIM FOWLER:**Glad to, Marlin! The Great White Proofreader is normally a fairly calm creature, but it has been known to become aggressive in the absence of proper sustenance. It lives in the seas of fan fiction and its primary food is new chapters. This week, we've come across a specimen that's becoming slightly ill-tempered.

**MARLIN PERKINS:**Oh, my! Why is that, Jim?

**JIM FOWLER:**Apparently this particular specimen has been starved by its author for several months. Even worse, its author has found the time to publish and update several other stories, which, while very entertaining, are the not the chapters for the story he had been feeding his proofreader.

**MARLIN PERKINS:**That sounds like terribly risky behavior. Let's examine this more closely.

[The camera shifts to a majestic view of the ocean waters at night. A full moon hangs in the sky.]

**JIM FOWLER: **Here we can see the author merrily distributing new chapters of his latest stories to a school of readers.

[The author is sitting on a small wooden platform at sea, feet dangling over the edge, blithely tossing new chapters to a school of readers nibbling about his toes.]

**AUTHOR:**They tickle!

**JIM FOWLER:** As you can see, he has chapters from every other story he's published except for _Every Silver Lining Has its Cloud_. This is about to prove a very dangerous endeavor…

[The _Jaws_ theme begins to play, slowly at first, but picking up tempo.]

**MARLIN PERKINS:**Oh, dear. This doesn't look like it will end well…

[The school of readers nibbling on the new chapters abruptly disperses as the author's platform begins to rock and bob sharply from the wake of something large passing beneath it.]

**JIM FOWLER:**Now that is a definite danger sign. What happens next should come as no surprise…

[The _Jaws_theme tempo begins to increase rapidly, and suddenly the author's platform is jarred sharply, catapulting him into the water.]

**AUTHOR:**Ahhhh! Help!

**JIM FOWLER:**We should caution our viewers that the next scene may be disturbing to younger children…

[The _Jaws_theme tempo abruptly reaches a climax, followed by a brief agonized shriek that is quickly silenced as the Author is pulled beneath the waves.]

**MARLIN PERKINS:**And there we can see the tragic consequences of starving a proofreader.

**JIM FOWLER:**Indeed. And the real tragedy here is that this could have been so easily averted. Teasing a proofreader with updates to all of an author's other stories is just never safe behavior.

**MARLIN PERKINS:**Well, Jim, don't you think it's time for you to wrestle with our animal of the week?

**JIM FOWLER:**Ummm….I'm not really sure that's a good…

**MARLIN PERKINS:**But it's what you do every week.

**JIM FOWLER:**Well, that is to say…

**AUDIENCE:**Boo! Chicken!

**MARLIN PERKINS:**Jim, I think the audience has spoken. Why don't you give it the old college try?

[Marlin gives Jim a firm shove from behind and he suddenly appears in the air near the platform, dropping down into the water with a loud splash.]

**JIM FOWLER:**Marlin! What the hell? Gahhh! Gotta make for that platform!

[He begin swimming flat-out for the platform, splashing up a storm in the process. Unfortunately, he never makes it. The Great White Proofreader abruptly erupts from the water underneath Jim, shooting up like a torpedo and capturing him in its jaws.]

**JIM FOWLER:**Aiiieee!

[The proofreader plunges back into the waters again, taking Jim with it.]

**MARLIN PERKINS:**Oh, dear, that looked rather painful for Jim. I'll bet he wishes he had some quality Whole Life Insurance from Mutual of Omaha. Well, what do we say, audience?

**AUDIENCE:**Gonna need another Jimmy!

**MARLIN PERKINS:**That's right! We'll be right back after these messages…

[The _Jaws_ theme fades ominously in the background as the scene fades out...]

* * *

_The blame and thanks for me getting my butt out of my chair and my hands typing again, go to my proofreader, Janessa Ravenwood. I cower in fear and horror, oh Great One and the next chapter shall not be as long coming. I shall give sacrifices of text and dialog to lay at thy alter._

**Really, I mean it.**

* * *

"Okay! That's enough!" Joyce yelled, breaking up the debate that was quickly turning into a wild-west style bar fight. "We are here to work on building the new constitution, not bicker like children over a broken crayon!"

Eyes turned to her with more than a little fear.

"Jesus, how do you feel about this? Nobody say anything! Just let him speak," she commanded, cutting off the comments about to be thrown in her direction.

Jesus Rodriguez straightened his tie and sat up straight. "I simply feel that there is no need for a two house system. We do not have the population nor the area to rationalize such a thing. We don't have an aristocratic class like a House of Lords. I think we should have districts based on population and leave it at that."

"Thank you," Joyce said. She turned to Duncan and nodded. "Your opinion?"

"It's a matter of tradition as well as checks and balances. The US has had a two-part congressional system since the constitution was adopted. It prevents silly things from just getting through," Duncan explained.

"Allan, your opinion?" Joyce asked.

"I don't know if either is exactly correct," the acting mayor said. "We've only got about fifty thousand people with the additions of the locals who are immigrating in droves. If we just have it based on population, how do we show demographic representation? We don't want to alienate the locals by making them feel like second class citizens."

"They do seem to be building their own enclaves along the ridges," another committee member mentioned.

"That's a mistake," Rodriguez said. For the first time, the lieutenant agreed with the Hispanic man and nodded. The two of them rarely agreed on anything. "That's no different from self segregation and it only causes problems. It breeds mistrust."

"I agree. While they would have representation, they would be apart from the rest of us," Duncan said. He absently scratched his head, an act that let people see his black scalp through his prematurely thinning hair. "We don't need a bunch of cultures, we need to all become one culture with different aspects. If we focus on our differences, we'll only break apart."

"True, but how does this help us decide? Do we go with one house or two?" Joyce asked. "Yes, Maggie?"

Maggie Walsh was just visiting, not having been a regular attendee, but seemed to enjoy the focused anarchy that these meetings tended to become.

"It seems like population is the best choice at this time," she said. "No government is perfect. We just have to try to make it as close as we can. When the US Senate was created, it was organized that way because they were trying to bring together states stretched along thousands of miles of coastline. We don't have that, so it just seems unnecessary."

"Thank you, Maggie," Joyce said. "Now, we can either butt heads or we can put it up for a vote. Which is it?"

Ashamed, they muttered that they would prefer a vote.

"Okay, one house. I propose we call it the Senate, what do people think?"

"That sounds good," Rodriguez agreed.

"Better than many of the other ideas put forth," Duncan admitted.

"All in favor of naming it the Senate?" Joyce glanced around at the hands. It was nearly unanimous. "Great. We have the Senate. Next order of business, what about the Head of State and the Head of Government?"

The debate began and the headaches grew.

* * *

"Tell me again, Manshoon, of this new land and its strange people," Fzoul said with an air of self-assured superiority. The archmage bristled at the implied insult in the tone, but centuries of talent and experience had ensured that Manshoon only showed the face he wanted others to see. And besides, he always wore a mask, so who was to be the wiser?

"Sunnydale is much the same as the last time I explained," Manshoon said in a tone one would use with a particularly unruly child. The archmage was pleased when that did procure a response from the irritable cleric. "There are few who follow our deities, although there is some overlap with certain, specific entities. Tyr is one, as are the deities of Mulhorand. They are technologically superior to us, and yet they do not have the manufacturing that they are used to. They are both frivolous and miserly. They are both unruly and practical."

"And yet that tells me nothing," Fzoul snarled as he brushed a hand through his blond hair. "My Dread Lord Bane demands that they be under his heel."

Under his mask, Manshoon sneered in seething hate. "That will not be so easy a task."

"And why not? Are you going to let your continued failures at the hands of the Harpers impede you further?" Fzoul inquired, implying that all Zhent failures should fall at Manshoon's feet.

"Any presence the Harpers have in Sunnydale is of little significance," Manshoon countered. "Unless one has an innate mastery of their language and culture, and not one born of magical talent, then any agent, Harper, Zhent or otherwise, would stand out like a castle in the sands of the Great Desert."

"If deceit is already a failed path then there is only the Tyranny of Bane," Fzoul said in time-honored words of a classic fanatic.

"They are currently neutrally aligned between the Silver Marches and the Zhentarim," Manshoon pointed out carefully. It was always a good choice to be careful when dealing with a powerful cleric. While his arcane might was impressive, he had no illusions that the Church of Bane had more members than his personal Black Cloaks. To borrow a Sunnydale phrase, he was treading on thin ice. "Conflict against them will only push them towards the Silver Marches and we will have a full-on war. That is something the Black Network that I built cannot withstand. I did not gain my position by being stupid and any arrogance I hold is earned. You, Fzoul, are being both stupid and arrogant, but have only earned the former."

Fzoul glared at the archmage with a look that promised divine retribution, but he said nothing. Instead, he stood up, turned and stalked out of the room.

Manshoon leaned back in his chair and wondered if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. Only time would tell.

* * *

I can't go out there.

It's everywhere.

I can feel it when I walk on bare ground and I know it can feel me.

It slithers.

But I'm not a meal, I'm just a snack.

It feeds.

An army returned, warned by spells, but they could do nothing.

I need food.

_So_ hungry, _so_ thirsty.

But I can't get caught, can't get caught, can't get caught, can't get caught.

I'd be gone.

I'd be like the orc.

It was stupid and hunted kobolds.

Then it was hunted.

Just a snack.

Not even a bite.

I need to go, but it's so far.

The tunnels are so far.

Menzoberranzan is too big.

Broken.

Broken and big.

And lost.

Menzoberranzan is fallen.

Lost.

So hungry.

IT'S HERE.

The former Mayor of Sunnydale chewed carefully as he devoured the drow. It had been a month since his transformation and after much deliberation he had finally come to a decision. While orc has a nice gamey flavor, drow tended to be _much_ more tender, even when well aged, but both made equally delicious snacks. Richard Wilkins glanced over towards the center of town.

"Hmm..." he said to himself. "Wasn't there a tower over there? I was sure there was a wizard's tower right next to that glowing pillar. Well, it's not glowing anymore."

* * *

"Okay, so why don't we wrap this up with a vote and I'll go announce the political parties that people came up with," Joyce said. She was still the unofficial PR woman for the not-quite government. It was a thankless job, but at least people were starting to respect what was going on. She didn't hate being involved with building the new government, although more than once she felt like she was running a daycare of unruly children. Buffy was never this much trouble and she burned down a school gym.

"All in favor of a three-tiered judicial system?"

Unlike most votes, this was unanimous.

"Let the record show that we have our first unanimous vote," acting-mayor Finch said, nodding to the secretary. "This meeting of the Constitutional committee is adjourned. Let's all go face the cameras."

The press conference was held, as always, in a small room that was once used for honoring service to the town, round table discussions, and occasional human sacrifices. Rare at the same time mind you because it was always difficult to get blood out of the rug. Today, Joyce felt like she was being sacrificed. Luckily for her, there were only three sources for news in Sunnydale: newspapers, radio stations and the local television stations; although there were several different opinions among those, so the result was twelve reporters each with their own agenda. Joyce smiled as she took to the podium.

"Thank you for joining me once more," Joyce said, keeping herself from flinching at the bright flashes from the cameras. "We now have the results of the political party registration office. For your information, two weeks ago, we asked people to start registering their political groups into a more formal setting and we weeded out any with only five hundred members or less. I am pleased to reveal that we will not be having a two party system, but a more diversified political group to more fully represent the diversity of our new nation. The first to register was the Christian Conservative Party, which is dedicated to their religious beliefs and political activism. Soon after that we had the Sunnydale Republicans as an extension of the former American party. The Sunnydale Socialist Party was registered with a diverse base from some surprising circles. Then we had the rather popular No-Pants-All-Party led by Butters who still refuses to wear pants. Yes, Molly?"

"Are we to assume that this means Butters is a serious candidate?" the reporter asked.

"I'd say that depends on the polls on election day," Joyce said. "We do not exclude anyone from this, save groups with small numbers. Butters has shown himself to be a loyal and dedicated citizen of Sunnydale, working in construction and hosting parties nearly every night. Aside from his refusal to wear pants, he has been a model citizen. You can laugh and call him a joke, but when it comes down to it, he's a popular figure. Ridicule only weakens us as a nation."

Molly smiled. Everything was working according to her plan. A little character assassination there, a reinforcement of stereotypes there, and a little more screen time and everything should work out. She was brought out of her internal back-patting by another reporter's question.

"How is the Executive branch going to work? Things haven't been too clear on that front," he said.

"That is true, and I regret that we have not kept people up to date," Joyce said. "If we can finish up this, I'll get to your question in just a moment. The next was the Isolation Party, a party that believes Sunnydale needs to limit immigration and strengthen our borders. The Sunnydale Magical Democrats have had a large turnout, including several rallies thus far, and feel that we need to fully integrate magic into our society and religion, not ban or vilify the practice. Then we have our next three political parties: Maho Shojo? Am I saying that right? I'm sorry, but they feel that, well, that we would be best protected by young magic wielding teenage girls in skimpy clothes. I'm sorry, but I'll be honest and admit that I don't share your beliefs, although you did have a rather significant turnout. As the mother of a magical child, I simply cannot see this as anything other than exploitation."

"Are you sure it's your place to pass judgment on political beliefs?" asked a reporter from a particularly conservative radio show.

"I'm a mother, I'm a woman, and I'm a person," Joyce said tersely. "I have opinions like each and every one of you. One thing I believe in is free speech, and while it might not be the most professional act for me to express them when speaking as a member of the government, I might remind you that I am not a professional. I'm a volunteer. I'm doing this to help people, but I'm not going to just be a sock puppet with the government's hand up my-_er_, next question please."

"Could we continue with the parties, please?" Molly asked with a winning smile.

"Certainly," Joyce said. "Next is the Sunnydale Greens, dedicated to environmental responsibility in our daily lives and in our interaction. The Fiscal Conservatives who feel that we have been overspending and need to pull back. Then we have the Liberal Party, a socially liberal party concerned with the state of personal rights, education and what they describe as draconian measures taken by the former Mayor."

"We are still allowed write-in candidates, correct?" Molly asked.

"Of course," Joyce said. "We allow that for every elected position."

"Wonderful," Molly said with a Cheshire smile. "Sorry, please continue."

"We have the People's Party, a neo-communist movement that has gathered some success in the past month," Joyce continued. "And the final party is the We-Want-Giant-Mechs Party."

"WHAT?"

"A political party dedicated towards ensuring that we, Sunnydale, make giant robots to combat hostile dragons, giants and other huge creatures," Joyce read off her sheet. "Yes, that is the description they put forth."

"That's not a political goal!" protested the reporter from before.

"I thought we weren't supposed to give our opinions?" Joyce asked with a raised eyebrow and just a tinge of sarcasm. The reporter had the decency to cringe. "You might ignore them, or laugh at them like people did with Butters, but they have support, no matter what people dislike. I don't agree with them personally, but almost two thousand other people apparently do, and have registered with the Mech Party."

* * *

Across town, Jonathan Levinson was trying to fade into the background. He'd started the party as a joke to parody Andrew's "Church of Gygax" silliness. He hadn't expected people to take him seriously. Warren gave him a Spock-ishly inquisitive eyebrow raise and the young man held his hands up in defense.

"It was a joke," Jono said. "I didn't even register with them. I'm a Green."

"Oh, I figured you for more of a Magical Democrat," Warren mused.

"I thought about it," Jonathan admitted.

"You started a political party and didn't join it?" Andrew asked as he brought in a bowl of homemade cheetos. "I joined. I got a few to join the Church of Gygax too."

The two boys looked at their slightly insane friend with wide eyes before Jonathan edged over to the phone.

"Hi, Mrs. Wells? This is Jonathan Levinson," he said. "It's time for Andrew to go home, can you send Tucker over to make sure he gets there safe and sound? Thanks."

"But I don't want to go home yet! I haven't finished telling you about the temple I'm going to build. It's a giant d12."

* * *

"Mrs. Summers, what party do you support?" one of the others asked.

"I haven't decided yet," Joyce admitted. "There are a number that have parts of their platform that I agree with, but not one that really represents what I feel. While I do dislike the amount of debt we've incurred to our neighbors and training partners, I don't feel that isolation is the answer. I'm a mother as well, so I'm concerned about the passive and active prejudice that's been directed at my daughter and other magical and special children and citizens. I think we need to pull together. It's easy to break into factions, very easy, but that's not going to help us in the long run. We're strangers in a strange land, being strangers with each other will only hurt us more."

"You talk about us getting hurt, what do you mean by that?" Molly asked.

"Well, look at history," Joyce said. "Earth's history, and Faerûn's I suspect, is filled with stories and events where a group was marginalized and turned into scapegoats. It would be easy for us to do that here. Some people are already doing it towards magic-users or orcs. One thing that happens frequently is that those societies become corrupt and fall. I don't want that to be us. I don't want us to be known as Americans and Japanese and Chinese, and any other group you can name. I want us to be Sunnydale. I didn't agree with everything the Mayor said, but I think that's one thing he had right."

"So you agree that the Mayor was a tyrant," asked another reporter.

"No," Joyce replied with no hesitation. Her voice was firm and her gaze steady and seemed to be looking right into the camera and out at the viewers from all over. "He did what he had to do. It wasn't nice. It wasn't polite and he pissed more than a few people off, but if Richard Wilkins III hadn't done what he did, we would have been starving, dead or enslaved or even a combination of those. In some cases we would have been food."

"But he had forced labor! He's no different than Stalin or Hitler!"

"Stop and think about that statement," Joyce instructed. "You're comparing the man who kept us alive, _and well_, long enough to have this conversation to the two most infamous mass-murderers of the 20th century? If he had been like Stalin, we wouldn't be having this conversation. We would have vanished without a trace. If Richard was like Hitler, he would have started splitting us up, blaming people for things that unfortunately plague us all. And sending certain scapegoat groups off to concentration camps would have soon followed. Now, I ask you, did he do any of these things?" When the reporter didn't respond at first, Joyce raised an imperious eyebrow.

"Uh, no," the reporter said quietly.

"Exactly," Joyce said. "Before coming to this world, how many of us had seen snow, much less lived through an entire winter? Not too many native to Southern California. We needed to change. We needed to change fast and the only way to do this was to make sure everybody did their part. And look at us-we're almost there! Don't you _dare _compare a man who helped bring us together so we can save ourselves to those monsters in mortal form."

The reporter didn't really have a response to that.

* * *

Sitting in his recliner with his "family" about as they watched the address, Kannyr Vhok whistled innocently. While Ms. Summers made good points, what she didn't know about the former Mayor could have filled, well, an ocean maybe. Oceans were supposed to be big, right? He'd never seen one, but he'd heard stories. Anyway, it was a lot. Still the cambion was among the best at what he did, and keeping secrets was only one of them.

"Aliiza," he purred as he pulled her into his lap. "Tell me, what do you think about this political process?"

"It confuses me," she admitted as she wriggled enticingly. Well, truth be told, with her as a half-succubus, everything she did was enticing, but that was beside the point. "They set things up to limit power. They make a maze for anyone who wants power. I just...it seems...I don't know. I still do not understand it."

"Have you registered to vote?" he asked.

"Yes, undeclared, although the Maho Shojo Party amuses me," she replied.

"I thought it would," Vhok replied. "I considered signing up for the Christian Conservative Party just to annoy them, but decided to go Green instead. What about you girls?"

Not moving from place as they stared at the television, his four pregnant succubus lovers replied in perfect unison. "Magical Democrats."

"Whatever happens, this will be interesting," Aliiza said with a saucy grin.


	43. Chapter 43

_I don't own this stuff!_

_Thanks go to the powerhouse of Janessa Ravenwood._

* * *

Joyce Summer slumped onto the couch next to her daughter and let out a sigh. She let her head roll over on her shoulder so she could give Buffy a sad smile.

"Is it wrong for me to be envious of you?" Joyce said, half jokingly.

"What?" asked Buffy with a look of confusion. Mom and envy of Buffy were supposed to be two non-mixy things.

"At least when you're confronted by blood sucking fiends, you're allowed to put a stake in their hearts," Joyce joked.

"Been dealing with reporters?"

"Exactly," Joyce said. "It's nights like these that I wish the vineyard was a little more successful."

"Glass of wine to settle the nerves?" Buffy asked.

"I know all the books say that it's giving the wrong impression to teens, but it does calm me down from time to time," Joyce admitted.

"You haven't done that much since the divorce," Buffy pointed out. "You and dad..."

"Your father and I had a good divorce," Joyce said. She nodded in response to Buffy's surprise. "It could have been horrid, long lawyer battles and all that. Instead, I kept you and he gave me half. It was easy and quick. I think that we just wanted it to end."

"Was...was I the cause?" Buffy asked. Joyce looked at her daughter for a moment before shaking her head sadly.

"Buffy, while the...vampires at Hemery might have brought it to a sharp final end, it had been _ending _for some time," Joyce said. "Hank and I hadn't been happy for quite a while. I didn't want to be a trophy wife, and he wanted to focus on his career, ignoring that I wanted the same thing."

"So you never wanted to be a stay-at-home-mom?"

"I wanted to be someone who could be a good example for my baby girl," Joyce said, brushing Buffy's hair behind her ear with one hand. "I didn't think I could do that by being a Stepford Wife."

"But you were always so involved in my life," Buffy protested.

"It's nothing against you, but I was struggling to keep busy," Joyce admitted. "Aside from Passions, there wasn't much on TV that I could stand, and you can only clean a house so many times in a week before you go totally insane."

"You felt like you were going crazy?"

"Being in that house...well, it was a lot like prison," Joyce admitted. "I did everything I could to get out during the day. Your father was...he felt that it wasn't necessary for me to work. And then he complained about the miles on the car, he complained about the gas I spent driving around. And he refused to let me have another child, so I couldn't even be like the other moms on the street, with little ones running around."

"So...it wasn't me?"

"No, Buffy, you did not break up your father and I, that was between us, and him sleeping with his secretary...and your freshman English teacher...and Mrs. Walton down the street...and especially him insisting that you go to an asylum helped the divorce along quite a bit..." Joyce said, trailing off as if there were a few more she wasn't going to mention. Her tone was comforting at first, but turned bitter towards the end, but Buffy understood that the bitterness wasn't directed at her, but at her father. "Of all the things I have done, all the mistakes I have made, there's nothing I regret more than letting him do that to you."

"Well...in his defense, I kinda had to be there," Buffy admitted, ignoring the TMI. "The Asylum, I mean."

Joyce's eyes went wide.

"What?"

"The Slayer is supposed to go where she's needed, even if I'm not a traditional Slayer," Buffy said. "There was a cult of demon worshipers sacrificing patients that I had to take care of."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"...I still feel bad though," Joyce said. Buffy grinned and pulled her mother into a hug.

"Better now, Ms. Voice of the Government," Buffy said with a grin. Joyce rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please, don't remind me," Joyce grumbled. "So what else is going on?"

Buffy's grin fell instantly.

"I'm still trying to figure out what happened with the Willows," Buffy admitted sadly. "Tara...well, Tara's afraid of us. I don't know, we were starting to be good friends, but then..."

"Then she was attacked by Dark Willow," Joyce finished for her. "That can't have been easy to deal with."

"No, I mean, I know it must have been hard, but she, well, she doesn't have many friends," Buffy said. "She's kinda alone and, well, alone's sucky."

"Yes, it can be," Joyce said. "Maybe you could just show that you want to be her friend again?"

"Well, yeah, that's the idea, but um," Buffy said. "I dunno really how? She kinda just runs away whenever she sees me."

"What if Giles or Xander talked to her, they're both a little less intimidating than a girl who attacks dragons with a little pointy stick."

"I'm not intimidating! I'm intimidate-less!"

"Buffy, people watched on live television as you fought dragons, demons and vampires without armor, without guns, armed rarely with more than a pointy stick of wood," Joyce said. "The cute little girl act doesn't work."

"That might explain a little about the distinct lack of dates," Buffy grumbled.

"You've been doing better now than you have in a long time," Joyce said. "You barely even mope about Angel anymore."

"Angel...I don't know," Buffy grumbled. "It's just...we can never really be together, you know?"

"You mean because you're a champion of mortals and he's a blood sucking fiend who is just barely held in check by a curse?" Joyce asked.

"You still don't like Angel much, do you?"

"No, I have serious problems with centuries old monsters taking advantage of my baby girl," Joyce said sternly.

"Does it help that it was kinda mutual advantage-taking of?"

"No."

"Oh," Buffy said. "How do you feel about it? I mean, you've known for a year now, but we've...never really talked about it."

Joyce didn't respond at first. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and stared a head as she formulated her response.

"It was really hard at first," Joyce began. "Here you were, still the same cookies and apple juice girl that went for the cheerleader squad and then I find out you go out and hunt monsters that make the Hammer films look like comedies. Before we could really get used to the changes, we were here, struggling to survive. Then there was the dragon and the whole...the whole media circus. I guess...I guess I've managed to just get used to the new you. Of course, having an adopted dark elf for a son seems to have helped get used to the not-Earth-normal." Then she looked around. "Where _is_ Drizzt? He's usually back by now."

"Oh, he, Xander and Larry, of all people, are having a 'Boy's Night Out' for some reason," Buffy replied with a shrug.

"Really? On a Tuesday?"

"It's not like anything's going to happen with Drizzt there."

* * *

Across Town:

Drizzt was running for his life. Slightly slower, Xander and Larry were trying to keep up.

"How could this happen! It's not supposed to happen!" Drizzt said as he rounded a corner.

_pant! "_Drizzt!" _pant! _"What-" _pant! _"happened?" Xander said nearly falling to his knees in exhaustion. Larry, while in better shape since he got out of the hospital, was nearly as tired.

"My sister!" Drizzt said with a look of fear as he glanced around.

"I" _pant!_ "thought-" _pant!_ "she stopped" _pant!_ "trying to kill" _pant!_"you?" Larry said as he slumped up against the wall.

"Oh no, it's much worse than that," Drizzt said, eyes wide as he looked around for possible relatives. "She's not trying to _kill_ me! She's trying to _breed_ me!"

"Oh." said the other two boys in unison.

"Well, that's not too bad," Larry said.

"Wait, she's not trying to breed you with _her_, is she?" Xander asked in horror.

"No! _Ew_! She's decided that House Do'Urden is too small and we need more members so she wants me to service as many of her vassals as possible," Drizzt said. He glanced around once more to get another look at their surroundings. "I need some place to hide. She found me once. Can't let her find me again."

"Um...Drizzt?" Xander asked.

"What Xander? I don't have much time, I need to hide," the dark elf said frantically.

"Granted I'm the only heterosexual human male here, but even as much as I love Cordy, I'm harboring some pretty big envy here," the dark haired boy admitted. "Your female parental figure is encouraging you to have multiple partners who look like Hugh Hefner's wet dreams crossed with Frank Frezetta's best. Most boys around here would consider you very lucky with a side of mind numbing jealousy."

"It's not like that at all! I don't know them! I don't want to be a stud cock like some prize rothe bull," Drizzt pleaded. "I don't love any of them!"

"DRIZZT DO'URDEN!"

"Oh bloody hell, she's found me," Drizzt uttered before taking to the shadows.

"I think he picked that phrase up from Giles," Xander said.

"I think we've got other problems," Larry said as he pointed behind him.

Xander and Larry shared a glance before looking up at the powerful figure of the Do'Urden Matron. She was about 4 foot 9, dainty, and very, very scary, but that was mostly her flail. She didn't use a scourge anymore since Lloth had abandoned her to her fate, but this flail was a small handle with a strong, but slender chain with a club on the end that looked like a spiked Louisville Slugger.

"_Males!_ Where did he go?" the newest matron of House Do'Urden demanded.

"I really don't know," Larry admitted. Xander chose to shrug and make a non-committal gesture towards the general direction of the Bronze. The Drow priestess growled and stomped off, her small entourage following along dutifully. After she was gone, Drizzt let out the breath he was holding and stepped out from behind a crate.

"Thanks guys, you're life savers," he said. And with that, he started back towards 1630 Revello Drive.

Larry and Xander looked as his figure got smaller and smaller until he turned another corner and vanished completely.

"Do you think we should tell them about the fertility clinic at Sunnydale General?" Larry asked.

"I think we'd better or this might become a recurring plot," Xander said as he struggled to stand up.

"Wouldn't want that to happen."

* * *

It was another two weeks before the bare bones of the new constitution was revealed. The results were generally accepted, and for that Joyce was pleased. The amount of bickering and infighting seemed almost worth it to have a product about 90% finished. It wasn't written in lawyer-speak yet, but people understood what it meant.

There were to be three branches just like in the US system: Executive, Judicial, and Legislative. The Executive Branch was the tied with the Legislative for most contentious. The fact of the matter was that there were too many different political models that people wanted. President, Prime Minister, Vice President and all that were bandied about, but it was finally settled. Prime Minister was abandoned since they chose not to go with the parliamentarian model and had decided to have a President as Head of State and would share the role of Head of Government with the Vice President. The President and Vice President would not be running on the same ticket. Instead, they would both be elected from the same pool. Voters would make their choice for President, and then they would make their choice for Vice President. This was intended to keep one party from complete control, and force a more equal share of the government and better represent the people. There had been a few too many close races in the US and other nations that made large groups unhappy, so this was intended to assuage those fears. It wasn't perfect, it had some glaring flaws, but it was better than most of the ideas they had come up with.

The President was responsible for the overall running of the government. She or he was advised by a Cabinet that had to be experienced in their fields. Those Cabinet members were also subject to votes of no-confidence by the Senate if they should prove to be unsatisfactory. The President was also the formal face of the government and would deal in many international and diplomatic issues. The President could also call for new elections in states of emergency, would sign or veto bills passed by the Senate, and would be the person first blamed for any problems. The President could run for three consecutive three-year terms and after waiting six years, could run again.

The Vice President was also the head of the Senate. The Vice President was responsible for bringing the Senate to order, and allowing it to close after a session. The Vice President could bring about impeachment proceedings against the president, forcing an investigation. After which, it would go to a new general vote of the populace. However, this also called for a new vote on the Vice President as well, and would therefore endanger their own position. This part was included to add incentive to not abuse the ability. The Vice President would also act as a temporary president until elections could be held, no longer than three months after the previous president was incapacitated.

The Judicial Branch had no lifetime positions. People could run for judicial positions in the three levels: District, National and Supreme, but all had to be reviewed by the Senate for qualifications. Then they would be chosen in a general election. Judges served for 5 years before they were up for renewal. They dealt with trials and constitutionality of laws. Also, when prompted by the Senate, they could be forced to revisit issues, although the Supreme Court could ignore this prompting, but had to do so formally and could not revisit issues without the prompting of the Senate.

The Senate, the legislative branch of the government, was made up of districts based on population. They would serve for 4 year terms and no more than three in a row. At that point they would have to wait out a turn before running again. They were the people who wrote the laws and passed them by vote. They were responsible for the review and nomination of Judges and cabinet secretaries to ensure ability, knowledge and talent of all people involved.

In the short description of how the new government was to work, there were a few provisions that were required of all elected members of government. There were to be no bribes of any kind. This included "gifts" from lobbyists and private interests. Also, elected members were required to abstain from any decision or vote that would concern their own private interests. Therefore, someone who had money from Oil, couldn't be involved in any votes or bills regarding the rules, regulations and rights of oil concerns. The same was true for Cabinet Secretaries and Judges of all levels. The only exception from this was the Executive Branch. Elected members had to transfer their rights in any economic concern to an independent blind trust, which would be returned after the elected officials' terms of service were up.

* * *

Gromph Baenre was not an idiot.

There were many negative things to say about the former Archmage of Menzoberranzan: he was arrogant, highly suspect, untrustworthy, a murderer, overly ambitious, abusive to his lovers, and prone to deliver the darkest arts at a whim.

But you could never call him an idiot.

Nor could you call him stupid.

He was there that day when everything changed. He had counseled against the keeping of the creature (he refused to call it a human, as no mortal surface ape could truly do what that thing had done) and he, as a good son of House Baenre, watched from the shadows and kept his own council that would only be shared with his dear, now departed, mother. Of all her offspring, he was the least disposable, and they both knew it. As such, Matron Baenre had allowed her male offspring to speak critically of females of lesser houses, so long as he always obeyed her whims. And he did, at least in public and where he suspected she had spies.

At the fall of Menzoberranzan, he was quite possibly the eldest of all living drow males in the subterranean city, and arguably the most powerful. There were a few drow who had...absolved themselves of life, taking the form of dread liches and such, but he was the highest of status.

You didn't get there by being a fool.

When the change came over the captive, Gromph had cast his most dreadful spells and almost choked as he realized that they seemed to have little effect other than to attract the creature's attention. With that in mind, there was only one spell that seemed practical at the moment: Teleport.

And with that, The eldest son of the Baenre family betrayed the entire city of Menzoberranzan. He heard his mother screech her displeasure, but chose to make a graceful exit with some hope of survival. If his mother and siblings had an ounce of common sense, they should have brought along their own items of escape. Some of the other Matrons seemed to have the right idea and were trampling each other in the attempt to flee the building. They probably did more damage to each other in that one act than they had in the last four centuries. Ah, irony.

Gromph's teleportation spell took him to his private tower. It was his own private pride, this tower. Unlike most buildings in the Drow city, this was unique in that it was not built by drow hands nor the hands of their slaves. No, this tower was built by human surface mages. Smirking slightly, he spoke the command phrase and shrunk the building down it a pocket size. The apprentices, minions and their familiars were cast out, expelled from the safety of the tower and forced to fend for themselves in the new Menzoberranzan.

His next act was his one special vice: the rescue of his daughter.

Liriel Baenre was also unique in Drow society in that she bore her father's name. Despite Menzoberranzan's extreme matriarchal nature, her natural talent at the age of five, a veritable infant in the eyes of the Drow, showed that the elf-child was much more worthy of being a Baenre than some other, lesser house, no matter how attractive her mother was. She was as gifted in the arcane arts as her father, although she lacked his experience. She was his little pride.

Although he had not raised her exclusively herself, she knew him well. Gromph was not about to let his only heir, the only drow he considered talented enough to replace him and become his equal to die at the hunger of some creature once disguised in human form.

"Daughter," he said, appearing before her. It was a command for attention. The girl's female friends (and a few of their male toys) were not pleased by this male's appearance.

"Hello, Father," she said formally, not bothering to clothe herself.

"_Male_! How dare you enter-"

The offending female's voice was cut off by a silent spell flicked in her general direction. The others, save for his daughter, watched in horror as the lower House Heir gurgled as she died, blood spewing from her mouth as she clawed at her throat, only to gouge her neck further.

Liriel never flinched, nor did she break eye contact.

"It is time for us to leave," Gromph said. "Take your things and return quickly."

"Are we traveling, Father?" she asked as she gathered her things.

"Yes," was his response, although he had no intention of returning. Gromph glanced about the building room. "Take anything else you desire from this House. They will not be needing it soon."

Eyes widened, the fear they held specifically held in check, but still obvious to one who was raised in the cutthroat culture of the Drow. Those who recognized him for who he was understood that the Archmage did not make idle boasts. He would lie, but he would never threaten. Gromph had to admit the reaction bemused him. He allowed himself a smirk. "You might wish to see to your own Houses."

He cackled inwardly at the mass exodus from the room.

In the three hours that followed, as Liriel took what she wished and packed her own items, Gromph could hear the destruction nearing.

"It is time, daughter," he commanded. Grabbing her by the shoulder, he cast another spell and they were gone.

* * *

Buffy Summers was bored. Not just a little, but quite a bit.

Willow was who knows where, and Buffy hadn't had any luck divining her location through any of her resources. Xander was either with Drizzt or Cordy these days, or at work, peddling back and forth between the Initiative and the military. Buffy didn't want to disrupt Giles since he was always so busy with the Initiative. It was too early for construction work, the only thing she was really qualified for at this point, and no one would let her go on border patrols since she wasn't really allowed anywhere else. Tara was ignoring her, well, actively avoiding at this point, and even so, there were only a few things they had in common when they talked and most of those were Willow. Tara had a crush, a big one, on the redhead. Buffy thought it was cute until the attack by Dark Willow. That was probably why it was so hard on Tara, she was attacked by the person she liked, or at least someone who was practically the twin of the one she liked.

Drizzt was off training and running from his sister. That was an amusing bit of culture shock. She'd been there when Xander and Larry had tried to explain a fertility clinic and sperm bank to her sorta-brother and his sister. Drizzt had been completely horrified, but his sister had been scandalized _and_ completely horrified.

"You do what?" Drizzt asked.

"You, uh," Xander said making a vaguely obscene gesture with his hands.

"I don't understand," Drizzt said. "Why would you do that?"

"This is disgusting!" Vierna snarled. "That is a waste! Anyone who does such a thing should be destroyed."

"Uh, what?" asked the present humans. Drizzt took pity on them and explained.

"I believe what my sister is complaining about is that it undermines the role of males in her belief system," the young dark elf explained.

"How?" Cordelia asked.

"Males exist for the pleasure of the females," Vierna replied. "They are there for our pleasure, to do our bidding and to die for us if it is our wish. This is disgusting. Males have a responsibility to give children, preferably daughters. This place makes the act of procreation an impersonal act. It allows anyone to be with child without the true act of impregnation."

"Uh, that's the point," Xander said. "This hospital helps with that. They focus on helping people get pregnant."

Vierna looked down on the stupid human male like he was dirt beneath her feet. She could tell her true disgust was missed by the creature.

"You have an entire order of healers dedicated towards pregnancy?" Drizzt asked, changing the subject. He wasn't too willing to explain the full situation to his friends. He was already aware of how humans could be uncomfortable when talking about sexual activities and sex/gender roles. "Why?"

Xander glanced up at Buffy for help, but she shook her head, struggling to keep from bursting into laughter. "It's uh..."

"Oh, please!" Cordy said with a roll of her eyes. "Some women can't get knocked up, or they don't like the men around them, so they might go to a sperm bank, where guys go to freeze their squigglies so that women can use them later. They don't have sex, but they can get pregnant. There's some women who can't really get pregnant easily the normal way, so the clinic helps with medicines to improve that. It works. They've got drugs that help women have five or six babies when they normally couldn't have any. It's all about getting knocked up."

Vierna gritted her teeth. As with most people, Cordy grated on her nerves, but the Drow woman swallowed her pride. She knew her fate was tied to Sunnydale and her House would deal with these humans on a regular basis. She didn't, however, like it.

"So what's the problem?" Cordy asked. "Why's it give you the squicks?"

"Squicks?"

"Why's it creep you out?" Cordy explained. That was an idiomatic expression that the Drow had heard often enough to decipher.

"In our People," Vierna began, giving her little brother, a boy that she had practically raised as his mother, a particularly dark look. "In our People, in our Society, the act of creating life is a duty for all males. They exist for our pleasure, the act of creating life is part of giving us pleasure. To refuse is considered an insult deserving of death." She glanced up at their angry faces and held up her hands, one of the many gestures she had picked up in her last few weeks on the surface. "I try to understand that is not acceptable here. But Drizzt has refused before. It doesn't matter what the male wants. Children belong to the maidens who bear them, not the male, and the male should do as his Matron bids."

"But I don't want to be used that way," Drizzt bemoaned.

"It is your _duty_!" Vierna snarled. "I have adopted fifteen young elf maidens of prime fertility and you refuse to help your House!"

"I don't want to be part of the House! That's the reason I left!" Drizzt explained.

"Wait," Xander said, physically waving his hand between them in a cutting motion. "We're getting off topic. The point of this was, Drizzt could do his duty while still getting what he wants out of life and you get what you want, Vierna."

Vierna gritted her teeth behind her closed lips. She hated the informality these humans had.

"Yeah, Xander's right," Cordy said, flipping a bit of hair over her shoulder. "Your girls get knocked up, and you get your babies. If things work the same with elf parts as they do human parts, you might get a bunch more than you expected. And this could get easier with more preggers than just Drizzt here could manage alone. And get some genetics training. You're all behind in bio, and that's hurting you guys a lot."

"What are genetics?" Vierna asked.

The three Scoobies leaned back on the couch and sighed.

"This is why we need Willow," Cordy said. "She knows all this stuff already."

"Cordy, not the real reason we need Willow," Xander said with a bit of a grumble to his voice.

"Yeah, we need her because she's our friend," Buffy corrected.

"Right, that too," Cordy said dismissively. She turned back to Vierna, giving the noblewoman a serious look. "Okay, tomorrow, you, me and Drizzt; the fertility clinic and then we Bronze it."

"Cordy," Xander said lovingly.

"What?" she asked.

"You will never change."

"Why should I?" she demanded.


	44. Chapter 44

Buffy wasn't having as easy a time as everyone assumed she was. It wasn't easy being the Slayer, no matter how much she wanted it to be. There were so many things she had to give up. Despite having the heart to heart with her Mom, Buffy was alone most of the time. Her friends were so busy with their new jobs and doing double duty with the last days of high school. Even Giles was busy as the leader of the Initiative, something that she was proud of him for, but at the same time, she missed having him as her watcher.

Her position as Slayer was a troublesome position. No one knew what to do with her. She was the most powerful Slayer in history, having died and come back stronger. She was the Slayer of several master vampires and responsible for the disruption of several other demons' plans. And then she got her jolt of super-Slayer-juice when Acathla brought her town here.

You'd never hear her say it aloud, but Buffy still blamed herself for that. Every time someone complained about missing a loved one, Buffy felt her heart twitch. Every time someone mentioned how they missed going to LA on weekends, Buffy felt a pang of guilt. But what she was most upset about was that she missed people too, but felt like she didn't deserve it.

It was at times like these that she started to run. There weren't that many enemies for her to hunt. Fledglings were popping up maybe twice a month, suggesting that there were a few vamps left in the city, but they were keeping a very low profile. But the Slayer needed to know she was doing something, so she ran. She patrolled. And she ran. It always helped for a little while, but when she started finding herself running faster than horses, faster than- well, a lot of things. Her run wasn't simply on the ground either. No, rooftops and alleys; former sewers and tree tops; Buffy used everything she could. Hearing her bounce from rooftop to rooftop wasn't a strange occurrence, and it was something she'd picked up from a redheaded woman she met a few months back. She was a bit strange, fighting with a panda, but hey, it takes all kinds.

But now, Buffy was just running. Specifically she was running towards the initiative. She never went in the front entrance, the former Frat House with the elevator. No, instead, Buffy had a private entrance that involved a giant boulder, a pass-code that only she knew and a long tunnel with a long drop. Basically it was an entrance that would be hard for people to get into. Buffy hefted the boulder and carefully placed it to the side, making sure that no one saw her. The she typed the passkey into the number pad and waited for the grill to open, a series of crisscrossed bars that slid away, allowing her entrance. As soon as it was open, she hefted the boulder again and placed it in front of the entrance, backing her way in. She was never sure why Giles had given her a private entrance, but he must have had his reasons.

"Hey-o Watcher-mine," she said as she flopped into a chair across from Giles' fancy military-chic desk.

"Hello, Buffy," he said with a smile. "What brings you here today?"

"Any vamp sightings? Any hospital sitting child killers? Nasty demons with animal intelligence and a taste for human flesh?" Buffy inquired.

"So you would rather give up steady work for something that has already gotten you killed?" Giles asked. "While I appreciate your new found dedication to your calling, I'm afraid that the Initiative has things under control. Is there another reason why you're here?"

"I don't know," she moaned as she fiddled with the pens in the jar on his desk. "Used to be: Angel hears rumor; lurks and tells rumor; Slayer tells Watcher; Watcher and Gang hit books; Xander looks at boobs in said books; Watcher finds badness; Watcher tells Slayer the where of badness; Slayer Slays badness. Now it's all complicated and stuff."

"A little bored, are we?" Giles asked.

"Just a bit," she replied. "I just...I need something to do, and construction just ain't cutting it."

"Buffy," Giles said, pulling off his glasses to look at her. "I'm quite sure that's not the true problem."

She hung her head so she could traces the lines of her shoes with her eyes.

"No," Buffy said. "It's not. It's...well, it's my Dad."

"Your father? Hank, I believe his name was?" asked her Watcher.

"Yeah," Buffy said with a voice full of emotions tangled together almost as if they were trying to choke each other out for the win. Buffy ran a hand through her hair and sighed deeply. "It...well, it's been a year. A whole year."

"And you miss him," Giles finished for her.

"And I miss him," Buffy said. "I miss him a lot. And I'm the only one. Mom's actually relieved to never have to deal with him again. Even if I know he isn't a really nice guy when it comes to women, I...he's still my dad."

"Buffy, it's natural to miss your father," said Giles carefully. He got up and sat down in the chair next to her and rested a hand over hers. "You aren't the only one who's missing family."

"I know!" Buffy sobbed. "I feel so guilty because it's all my fault!"

"Oh, Buffy," he said sadly, rubbing her upper back. "You can't go around claiming responsibility for other events. Especially Acathla. While you were not the most responsible with your relationship with Angel, Buffy, you were, and are, a teenager. Very few relationships during that time are very mature or stable. And Acathla was found and would have no doubt been opened by something else. If you hadn't been there, it might well have just dragged more in, which would have been much more disastrous."

"You can't know that!"

"Buffy, Angelus didn't bring Acathla into Sunnydale," Giles reminded her. "Something of that power would have been quite a draw to certain factions." He looked at his Slayer closely. "Buffy, what is really going on?"

She didn't answer at first.

"I-it's almost a year. Everyone's so wrapped up in politics that they aren't even taking note of the date, and-" she cut herself off. "And I'm just waiting for everyone to blame me."

"Regardless of the words of a few detestable individuals, you are not rightly blamed for the actions of others," Giles repeated. "You need to let this go. And we both are missing our fathers."

"You've got a dad? Wait, of course you do, biology and all that," Buffy said stumbling. She shook her head and let her watcher continue.

"When I was a little younger than you, I wanted nothing to do with the Watchers' Council," Giles explained. "It's a hereditary group. Families go back centuries, something that is not uncommon in Britain. Many Council families have seats in the House of Lords. We Gileses were wealthy, but not overly so. My father was one of the inner Council with Quentin Travers, a truly detestable man."

"So that's when you went all Ripper?"

"Yes, Ripper was the result," Giles admitted. "I did well in school, but had no interest in being a 'good son' like my father wanted. I rebelled and spent some time at University where I met a few other like minded individuals."

"Ethan and the zombie people," Buffy said.

"Yes, well, they weren't zombies at the time, although one friend did die as a result of our carelessness," Giles said. "Some of us abandoned the magical world all together. Some, like Ethan, delved into arts better left alone. I became a Watcher in Training."

"I'm guessing your dad was happy about that," Buffy said.

"No, actually he was utterly embarrassed," Giles admitted. "I had played with dark arts, and while Watchers are required to have some knowledge of them, to actually practice them was...shall we say, highly suspect."

"So how'd you get all watchery if your dad didn't like you?"

"I worked my ass off, as you Americans say," Giles replied, his face quirking into a grin. "Father was still not impressed by me, even when I was one of two candidates to replace your first Watcher." Giles leaned back and pulled his glasses off his nose. "The other candidate was using much darker magicks than I ever experimented with. I exposed him, but only by using a book that the Council had declared dark as well."

"Oh, so I'm guessing that didn't go over well."

"No it did not," Giles agreed. He set his glasses on the desk and took a sip of tea. It was so hard to get good tea these days. "It was decided that I would have to take a test that no one had survived in a rather long time. They expected it to remove the darkness from me."

"Did it?"

"No, all it did was show me as a rebellious youth – Ripper was a manifestation of my darkness," Giles explained. "I only survived because I recognized the darkness within me, accepted that it was a part of my being."

"So you passed, was your dad happy then?"

"No, not hardly," Giles replied with a rueful smile. "He said that even if I was an active watcher to an active Slayer, the fact that I had to take the test in the cave-"

"Wait, you went into a cave and saw your dark side as a form of yourself? Darth Vader much?" Buffy asked. "Is Travers short, green and talks funny?"

"No, Travers is not Yoda," Giles said with a wide grin. "And my father was embarrassed that I had to take the test at all, regardless of if I had survived or not."

"Wow, I guess having Sir-Sleeps-Around as a dad isn't that bad," Buffy mused.

"Oh, I'm quite sure Father did that as well," Giles replied. "It is not uncommon for men of wealth and power to have mistresses. While immoral, it is rather accepted in that society."

"So your mom didn't kick him in the jimmies like mine did?"

"No, she didn't, although since I do believe that Mother had a few lovers of her own," Giles argued, "it would have been rather hypocritical of her to do so."

* * *

Election day was always a big event. The weeks leading up to that spring day were a fury of homemade banners proclaiming the owner's leader as the next political messiah, denouncements of opponents and boatloads of aggravation for the others who had to listen to the next political prophesy.

Joyce Summers was suffering from the aggravation. Months of planning had built up with the simple goal of this one day. And now she was stuck spending the entire day at the local polling station.

She was starting to wonder if that law requiring all eligible voters to vote was such a good idea. Truth be told, it probably _wasn't_ a good idea, but it had already been voted on and only time would tell if this would truly work. She was considering gathering signatures for a full referendum herself.

Joyce had woken up at 4AM, washed, got dressed and biked to work, peddling so she was there for set up at 5:30AM. Then she had the 6AM Cabinet meeting. At 7AM the polls opened and she was responsible for vetting voters to make sure they were in the correct voting zone. 423 people attempted to "vote early and often" and managed to cause massive amounts of problems.

There were a few goblins who complained that since they were adults at fifteen, they should have the right to vote then, but Joyce (who still couldn't understand how goblins got put in her voting district in the first place as their communities were in the subterranean districts) had firmly reminded them that it was put in place for all people of all races. This sparked a heated debate about elves and voting since they didn't come to maturity until some time in their second century. Joyce had finally got them calmed down and directed them to Jesus Rodriguez for a hearty discussion on political law and social complaints.

Then there was Mr. Kochanski, who simply forgot that he had voted and had to be reminded seventeen times throughout the day. He walked to the polls from his home, then back, six times, the other eleven times, he was reminded before he made it all the way back to his house. Not bad for a man of 104, even if he was starting to lose it, but what can you expect for a man who's lived in Sunnydale all his life?

Then at noon, she had a break. Or she was supposed to have a break. Instead, she was constantly asked what people thought of various issues. The press, average citizens, children and parents all wanted to know what she thought. She was polite and carefully explained her opinions, but cautioned everyone that they shouldn't vote just because of what she, Joyce Summers, believed and that it had to be their own choice.

She never ate a bite.

Then she was back at it again, this time, making sure that there weren't any extra ballots being filled out. There were only three incidents of this type and all were caused by sticky ballots that hadn't been cut right.

Needless to say, when the ballots closed at 8PM, she wasn't too excited to count votes. Five minutes after they started, an older woman raised her hand.

"Joyce?"

"What's the matter, Mrs. Walker?"

The woman grinned and pointed towards the door.

"You have to leave now," she said, smiling.

"Why?" asked Joyce. "I'm here until we're done counting."

"Simple rules," Mrs. Walker said. "No one who got a vote can take part in counting."

Joyce looked at her blankly for a moment. "Ugh, it was probably just Buffy playing a prank."

"Go home and get some sleep."

Dog tired, Joyce grabbed her coat and walked her bike back to the house. Stepping inside, she poured herself a tall glass of water and sat down on the couch to watch the results go in.

She was asleep almost the moment she leaned back.

* * *

Joyce awoke to the sound of a pounding door and sunlight streaming in on her face. She glanced at the clock. Ugh. 5AM. She stood up, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and glanced around again. There were people on her lawn.

Lots of people on her lawn.

Hell, probably half the city was on her lawn.

If Joyce had been in a better state of mind, she would have thought something more about her appearance. She might have realized that she needed a shower. She might have considered that she was quite clearly wearing the same clothes as the day before and by her rumpled appearance, had clearly slept in them the night before. However, since she was more than just slightly sleep addled, she trudged to the door and opened it wide.

"Hello?" she asked, squinting in the bright morning light shining right in her face.

"CONGRATULATIONS!"

She leaned back in surprise.

"Uh, what?" she asked. Glancing over, she saw Allan Finch stepping up and took a firm grasp of her hand.

"Sunnydale, please meet Joyce Summers, the first President of Sunnydale," he said in a loud voice, eliciting a multitude of cheering.

"WHAT?"

* * *

One Explanation Later:

"What do you mean there was a write-in campaign?" Joyce demanded. Her audience was made up an uncomfortable Rupert Giles, a grinning Molly Rogers, a proud Buffy Summers, a smug Allan Finch, a smirking Drizzt and Xander, a beaming Cordelia and a guffawing Shaman of Ilneval. "How is this possible? I wasn't even running!"

"But MoooOooOoom!" Buffy whined. "You won! Don't reject it!"

"I haven't," Joyce said. "Not yet. But will someone please tell him to stop laughing."

The Shaman settled down in an attempt to catch his breath.

"Why are you involved with this?" Joyce asked him.

"Strategy, my dear President," the Shaman replied. "It was Ilneval's will that one who supports the orcish cause would rule. Overwhelming odds and well thought out strategy paved the way towards your victory. If you'd just say a prayer to him soon, I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"Why me? How me? Who?"

"To answer your first one," Molly Rogers said, cutting her off. "I planned this from early on. It was blatantly apparent that none of the candidates were actually thinking of Sunnydale as a whole, but only their own personal power. I knew that there'd be no way to get someone good to run and win in a normal debate, so we tweaked things a little."

"I handed out pamphlets," Buffy said proudly. She brandished a blue piece of paper with Joyce's face bearing her face and a list of values.

"We ran an honest game," Allan said. "No back biting, no private money, no backroom deals that you have to repay later. You didn't badmouth your opponents except when you did on TV, but of course, you didn't know you were running."

"How did you keep this a secret?" Joyce asked.

"It was easy," Molly said. "All we had to do was keep you too busy and the press understood that they weren't to ask you questions about your campaign when you were acting as press secretary for the Constitutional Committee."

"It doesn't make any sense!" Joyce protested.

Allan Finch smirked smugly.

"It's politics," he said. "It never makes any sense."

Joyce sat there for another long moment, not looking at anyone.

"Coffee," she decided. "I need coffee."

The others in the room perked up instantly.

"You have coffee?" they asked in unison.

"Mom! How come you have coffee?" Buffy demanded.

"I used to stock up on the good stuff and hide in the freezer," Joyce said with a smirk. "You'd just drink the cheepo brand bought in bulk. I have to dig into the bottom of the freezer to get it."

"So..." said Allan, "you don't just have coffee, you've got _good_ coffee?"

Joyce nodded.

"Please?" asked Allan Finch; he looked like a puppy asking his owner to throw the stick again.

* * *

_There is no claim of ownership for Buffy or the Forgotten Realms, mostly because if I did claim to own them I'd be lying. Thanks for everyone who helped with developing the political world and to Janessa Ravenwood for clearing up a lot of my insanity in text._


	45. Chapter 45

**Every Silver Lining has its Cloud: For want of a Nail**

* * *

"Hi," the woman said as she stepped into the daycare. "I'm here to volunteer by telling a story. I think this is where I'm supposed to be."

"Oh, thank goodness," the exhausted nanny said. "I'm Rita, please forgive the mess. With the flu going around half my help's called in sick. You're Aphrodesia's replacement?"

"For today at least," the woman said. "And you don't have to worry, I've got children of my own. I know how they can be."

"Thank you," Rita said with a sigh. "I just managed to herd them into the nap room. You can start as soon as you want."

"Oh, great!" the woman said, rubbing her hands together in a manner that wasn't exactly reassuring.

"So what were you going to read? We've been through Dr. Seuss enough so I think they've got them all memorized," Rita said.

"I thought I'd go for some old time oral storytelling," Aphrodesia's replacement said. "There's a lot to be said for tradition."

"Well if you're not sure, we've got a few newer books in the lounge," Rita told her. The woman nodded in thanks. "Well, if you're all set, I'll go do the paperwork. Thank you for coming in on such short notice."

"It's not a problem, not at all."

There's a story. I can't remember who wrote it first. But, like many stories, it has a moral. It's basically that a little mistake can have consequences much larger than the initial act. One version starts out:

_For want of a nail a horseshoe was lost,  
for want of a horseshoe a horse went lame,  
for want of a horse a rider never got through,  
for want of a rider a message never arrived,  
for want of a message an army was never sent,  
for want of an army a battle was lost,  
for want of a battle a war was lost,  
for want of a war a kingdom fell__._

_All__ for want of a nail._

* * *

It's a lesson in causality. The idea that one insignificant event can have big consequences. Just as there is the theory that a butterfly flapping its wings in Vietnam causes a hurricane to spring up in the Gulf of Mexico. It's part of the lesson that everything is connected. Small events have big consequences.

"Hi, kids," the woman said as she sat down in a beanbag chair. She heard the chorused reply of "hi" and smiled. She glanced around. There were white kids, black kids, Asian kids, Hispanic kids. There were orcish kids, human kids, gnomish kids, goblin kids. She smiled. "Who wants to hear a story?"

Hands reached for the sky and waved with chorused called of "Me! Me!" ringing through the room.

"Well, come in close, because I want everyone to hear," she said, casting her gaze about the room and making eye contact with every child. "Once upon a time, there was a magical town called Sunnydale."

The look of amazement on their faces was something only children could achieve as they realized that _they_ lived in this magical town. The woman nodded encouragingly. "That's right, Sunnydale. That's where we are now, right? Well, some time ago, there lived a young woman. She had long blonde hair and she was quite pretty."

"Was it Buffy?"

"No, no, it wasn't Buffy, but that was a good guess," the woman said. "Does anyone else know?" there were a few suggestions, but none of them came close. "No, her name was Harmony Kendall. And while she was quite pretty on the outside, she was not a nice person inside. She was like an apple with a worm inside." There was something disconcerting when the woman said the word "apple" but the children didn't seem to notice.

"Was she evil?"

"No, she wasn't evil, but she wasn't nice either," the storyteller continued. "You see, she cared about her own appearance more than she cared about other people."

"That's not nice," one girl in the front said.

"No, it's not," the woman replied. "And there was one day when Harmony was supposed to be working, but she wasn't working hard."

"What did she do?"

"Instead of working hard, she chose to check her make up," the woman continued. "And when she left to look in the mirror, she dropped the box of decorations that she was supposed to be moving to the gym. And there it was, a big box of tinsel, balloons and other supplies, right in the middle of the hallway." She glanced around to make sure she was keeping their attention. "Soon, along came Mrs. Pome. Now, Mrs. Pome was allergic to latex, which was all over the balloons that Harmony dropped all over the hall. As Mrs. Pome walked down the hallway, she slipped on a piece of the tinsel and fell face first into the latex."

"Was she okay?"

The woman shook her head sadly. "No, Mrs. Pome got very sick. It's not nice being sick is it? Yuck! But she was so sick that the school had to call for an ambulance. And there she was, being taken to the hospital because Harmony didn't do what she was supposed to. Now, that wasn't very nice, was it? No. But Mrs. Pome was okay because she got to the hospital." She smiled as the kids' faces perked up. "But across town, Buffy, you know Buffy, right?" Those kids showed expressions of hero worship as the woman mentioned Sunnydale's own superheroine. "Across town, Buffy Summers was running to save the town from the evil Angelus. Angelus was a very bad vampire."

"Why was he bad?"

"He liked to hurt people, and he really wanted to hurt Buffy," the woman said and stifled an amused laugh at the scowls of the children. They didn't like Angelus either. "But because Harmony didn't do her job, Mrs. Pome had to go to the hospital. And Buffy was running across town to fight the evil Angelus, but halfway there, Buffy had to wait for the ambulance to pass."

"Was she too late?"

"No, she wasn't _too_ late, but she was later than she wanted," the woman replied. "Buffy arrived and fought the evil Angelus. She showed up, but Angelus had already opened a portal. Buffy and Angelus fought with swords, blade to blade. Each would strike and the other would block. And then, Angelus struck, cutting Buffy."

The children gasped in horror.

"But all was not lost," the woman said. "At the hospital, Willow, the Red Witch, was sleeping."

"Buffy's friend?"

"Yes, Buffy's friend," the woman agreed. "She had been attacked by the evil Angelus' vampire daughter, the mad Drusilla. And Willow was sleeping because of the attack."

"But she's a good witch!"

"Yes, she is, but even good witches need time to heal, and doctors to help them heal," the woman replied. "And because Mrs. Pome was in the emergency room, the doctors had to wait to wake Willow the Red Witch." She glanced around once more. "All the while, Buffy fought the evil Angelus. She wasn't about to let him hurt the world. When that first attack hit, Angelus thought he had won, but Buffy quickly told him otherwise and counter attacked, forcing the evil master vampire back as only a Vampire Slayer could. But Buffy was a living girl, even if she was the Vampire Slayer, and she'd been fighting for a long time. She was starting to get tired."

"Oh no!" one of the kids exclaimed.

"It was okay, because back at the hospital, the doctors had finally given Willow the Red Witch her medicine," the woman told them as she continued the story. "Willow woke up and had her friends help her cast a magic spell."

"What did the spell do?"

"It turned the evil Angelus back into the hero Angel," the woman said. The looks of glee on the children was quite a reward. If there was anything a story needed more than a hero it was a villain that was restored to herodom. "As Buffy and Angelus fought, she felt her opponent stop his attack and realized that Willow had saved Angel. Together, Buffy and Angel stopped the portal." The children cheered.

"What happened after that? Did they live happily ever after?"

"No, not yet," the woman said. "But they did have some more adventures together. I'll tell you the Story of How Sunnydale came to the Realms when I stop by tomorrow."

"Not now?"

"No," the woman said. "Now it's time for you to take a nap."

"But I'm not tired!"

"Remember what almost happened when Harmony didn't do what she was supposed to?" the woman asked and watched as eyes bugged out. "Uh-huh, Buffy almost got hurt."

"I *yawn!* guess I could take a nap," the boy said.

"I thought so," commented the woman with a mysterious smile.

* * *

The next day the woman was back and Rita had never been more happy to see someone in her life. Rita grabbed the woman's hand and shook it in relief.

"Oh, thank you, so much," Rita said. "They've been talking about your story ever since they woke up after their nap. Judging by what parents said as they dropped them off this morning, they didn't stop talking about it when they went home, either."

"I'm glad I made an impression," the woman replied with a sly grin. She was greeted with hugs as she walked into the story room. "Okay, okay, calm down. Let's all sit down and we'll listen to another story."

As the days went by, the woman told of Buffy vs. the Green Dragon, and Buffy in the Mountain City and eventually told almost every story there was about Buffy the Slayer, Willow the Red Witch, Xander the White Knight, and Giles the Watcher. Drizzt Do'Urden was another popular figure, but every story always started with an accident and every story had a lesson like the stories of old. Just as ancient fables had lessons and morals, so did the woman's stories, but each and every one was true to a certain extent and showed people that the children knew. It was a sad parting when Aphrodesia got better and came back to work. One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish just didn't cut it after hearing Buffy verses the Master.

* * *

As the woman was about to leave for the last time, Rita stopped her.

"Was it true, did the Kendall girl really cause all this to happen?" she asked.

"Not everything," the woman replied. "But everything is connected. Harmony Kendall's upbringing with a lack of responsibility did make things worse. Maybe if she hadn't left that box to check her makeup, things would have been different, but speculation won't help you now. She did what she did, and it had consequences. So, yes, the Kendalls are responsible for the situation Sunnydale is in right now."

"It's like that, if a person gets up on the right side or the left side of the bed thing, isn't it?"

"Everything has causality, Rita, everything," the dark skinned woman said. The woman smiled slightly, reveling in the chaos it would cause. While the blame couldn't really be put on Harmony -in truth the cheerleader's responsibility ended with Mrs. Pome- but the rumors would spread, blaming it on the girl which would taint her father in turn. A little lie can grow, just as it takes a single pebble to start an avalanche, or a butterfly's wings in the Amazon can start a hurricane that hits New York a few weeks later. Causality, as it has been said, is a bitch. She cocked her head and reached into her pocket. "Apple?"

* * *

Some lines of causality don't make as good stories for children as others. One that wouldn't have made as much sense was the Story of How Giles Moved Out.

You see, with the change of status Giles had, he just simply didn't have the same kind of time on his hands. Running the Initiative and acting as a member of the cabinet made things a bit more difficult and he had decided that a displaced family could better use his flat, than he could. He was moving his books to the Initiative anyway, and it only made sense for him to find a smaller place.

As such, it only made sense to have some others move his belongings for him.

Sunnydale Movers was a typical Sunnydale company. The owners had been attracted by the low housing costs and only later discovered why. However, in their case, they no longer had the long range shipping that they did before, and had become responsible for moving people from housing unit to housing unit after the Shift. For them to be moving Giles' possessions was no big deal.

But then they hired Jack O'Toole. As everyone of a certain age was required to work, Jack needed a job and only Sunnydale Movers, a company that hadn't been in town long enough to learn his reputation, was willing to hire him.

Young Jack was your typical Sunnydale ne'er-do-well. He was a chain smoker at 13, into drugs less than a year later, an amateur black magic dabbler (no doubt due to his necromancer grandfather), and occasional thief. And now he was responsible for moving, packing and handling other people's things. It should have been no surprise that a box here and a box there vanished from the wagons as so many people were consolidating living spaces.

However, most of his usual avenues of illicit sales were closed after the Shift, so he was forced to try something else. His opportunity arrived with the Zhentarim.

The Zhentarim, as some might be aware, are not the most respected organization. Several hundred years old, it was founded by Manshoon, a well known evil wizard of great power who still holds significant power in the organization today. They tend to go about taking a place over in one of three ways: economy, religion or force. After witnessing the power Sunnydale displayed against the demonic horde of Hellgate Keep, Manshoon was well aware that force might well be a poor choice. Religion was an equally, or greater, problematic choice as Sunnydale was not quite as willing to convert and had strict protections of freedom of religion. This was regardless of what the fool Fzoul thought. So that left economic means, which would be, by far, the easiest choice.

Sunnydale needed things and the Zhentarim could provide them.

It was rather simple.

And it worked: a trade of illicit goods went in and out of Sunnydale.

Now, as word of this new metropolis spread (and a community of 40,000 people in the Forgotten Realms did constitute a metropolis), so did a market for Sunnydale "artifacts." It wasn't long before excess, superfluous goods were showing up in markets as far as Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate, or even the desert cities of Amn. And this brings us back to Jack O'Toole.

There were three boxes that he had purloined from Giles' possessions. The first contained little more than a few old, worn tweed suits that had entered the black market via the Silver Marches merchants. From there it went west to Silverymoon and the individual pieces were spread around, some entering the wardrobes of such people as the Herald of Neverwinter and two of the masked lords of Waterdeep. The styles were copied and began a new tweed trend in Waterdavian fashion causing Giles to accidentally be at the height of fashion.

The second box contained another series of clothes. These were in garish colors and sized for young human children or tall, slim gnomes and halflings. If Giles had been asked, he would have identified them as some of the many costumes leftover from Ethan's Halloween celebration which the Watcher had been attempting to analyze, but seemed to never have the time. There were many of the costumes on the market. Most of the children that wore them the first time had grown out of them, and costumes weren't very practical clothes, especially the cheaper versions. In fact, those costumes were one of the most common items sold off. While they weren't worth much individually, the value was added the further and further one traveled from the transported city. Twenty-Five of these garishly colored costumes arrived in the hands of a halfling acting troupe that had been staying in the tavern Selune's Smile in Waterdeep. Several of various styles arrived at the High Temple of Gond also in Lantan. One of the few adult sized costumes went to a pirate from Luskan. The others went all over the Realms, many to people of various levels of wealth, but only a select few were regularly worn.

The third and final box was of more interest to the Zhentarim agent that purchased it. Unlike the other two, that, while heavy, contained relatively worthless goods, this had a series of notebooks detailing Rupert Giles' stay in Sunnydale and detailed notes on the various magics he and his Slayer had encountered over the years. These were boxed up and forgotten since Willow had long since transcribed them into digital media. In particular interest to the Black Cloaks, the arcane arm of the Zhentarim, were Giles' notes on the long term effects of Ethan Rayne's Halloween spell. The concept that a relatively simple spell could grant important skills and knowledge was an instant delight. Giles wouldn't miss these notes for years.

The problem with using these notes is that Giles tended to only jot down what he wouldn't remember; minute details while the broad facts were still stored in his long term memory. That the costumes were the impetus for the transformation was not something that he would record as it wasn't something any of the people involved were likely to forget. It was rather common knowledge with Butters' talk of being Abraham Lincoln for a night. That the ritual took place on Halloween wasn't recorded either, as that too, was common knowledge to Sunnydalers. These were facts that the Watcher had recorded in his official Watcher's Journal, but those tomes were well protected and not something Giles would have someone else move, no matter how busy he was.

The notes were studied in detail in the Citadel of the Raven. This was a castle that the Zhentarim had spent many years trying to take and had finally succeeded. It had many of the rare magical items that the organization had acquired over the years and had sequestered for further study. And that brings us to Giles' notes.

"Ah, yes, I see," said Kaleen, a young Black Cloak mage. She wasn't one of the more active members, but a secretive and bookish mage. She had long black hair, pale skin and dark eyes. She wore the eponymous clothing of her order, but the purely combat spells she knew one could count without having to take one's shoes off. Her true mastery was in the creation, analyzing and reproduction of magical items and enchantments and rare spells and had a deep knowledge of magical creatures and effects. In other words, she was the Zhentarim's industrial espionage expert crossed with their Giles. For five months she had been studying the texts. It was clear that they were incomplete, but she was confident that she had managed to fill in the blanks.

She had the bust as a magical focus. Unlike Ethan, who had used Janus, she used her personal patron deity, Azuth. It had been expertly crafted from alabaster by a master of the craft. The notes mentioned Janus, but she lacked the cultural knowledge for context, so she had made her own.

Kaleen had no more knowledge of the precise incantation Ethan Rayne had used than Giles did, and so she had made her own.

She had no knowledge that it was tied to costumes, so she didn't bother to make them.

With a series of arcane phrases in the near forgotten language of Netheril, Kaleen began her spell.

One of Azuth's tenets is the expansion and diffusion of magic and knowledge. He considers it to be one of the most important duties of any spellcaster and there is nothing that he hates more than those magic users who hoard magic like dragons hoard wealth. So even when the spell probably shouldn't have worked, Azuth gave his worshiper a little push.

* * *

NOW:

Laspin Skullsplitter was a nasty piece of work. He was born in Luskan to a dockside innkeeper's daughter in that same Inn. He'd killed his grandfather and grandmother when he was ten. He'd kept his mother around because he could. When he was fifteen he left her after selling the inn and took up on a pirate ship. By eighteen he'd managed to kill, fight and work his way up to captain, not necessarily in that particular order.

He had arrived in Skullport two days ago. Skullport was the Mos Eisley of the Forgotten Realms, as never would you find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy as the unlawful subterranean city. Situated under Waterdeep and not far from the legendary dungeons of Undermountain, Skullport was where criminals went to work. About the only goodly people who weren't passing through the city were the drow followers of Eilistraee, the patron deity of good drow. Needless to say, a piece of trash like Laspin Skullsplitter fit right in with most of the crowd and with his reputation, he was feared enough to even stand above the heap to a certain degree.

He had arrived to take up an offer by several other pirates of an alliance. And there he was, in his Sunnydale costume. The material itself was thin, but had padding inside to make the wearer seem to have much bigger muscles. On his belt, on bandoleers and on his back were the other parts of his costume, plastic weapons that had no functionality, but looked impressive with sounds and glowing lights when buttons were pressed. It was a symbol of his wealth that he was able to afford to buy or steal a Sunnydale item. It was complete with a thick pair of boots on his feet. It was black from head to toe with the exception of a white skull in the middle of his chest.

He was in mid-laugh when the spell went into effect. His laughter stopped as Laspin vanished, the plastic became steel, the pineapple shaped balls turned into grenades and Frank Castle took over. Frank watched as one of the other pirates threw a knife at a bound boy, just because he could. Frank might not know much about dimensional transportation, but Frank knew a criminal when he saw one.

He didn't even say anything. The Punisher shot the pirate in the head with a shotgun. Frank spun around, pumped the twelve gauge and put two more in the chests of the pirates next to the first.

"Laspin! We had a truce!" one of the remaining pirates yelled in outrage. Frank put a bullet in his brain pan. Knives came out and the Punisher burst into motion, guns blazing. Knives are good weapons. They can be thrown, they can be hidden, and they're great for close combat fights, but there's some truth to that adage about bringing a sword to a gunfight.

Frank Castle in Laspin Skullsplitter's body stood above the boy with the knife wound. The boy only knew the reputation of the body, not the man currently in the driver's seat, so he cowered in fear of what he would do next. The man had, after all, just killed nearly everyone else in the tavern. Frank bent down and bound the boy's wound with a scrap of cloth.

"Let's get you to a doctor, kid," he said as the Punisher picked up the wounded boy and carried him out to the bright sun, a rather long task considering where the deal had taken place.

* * *

Lantan was a land of innovation. While most of the Realms were strictly middle ages in terms of technology, Lantan was progressively Renaissance. They had black powder weapons, of poor reliability, but they had them. Their ships were stronger, although not perfect. Their knowledge of mechanics was greater than most other places. They even had zeppelins that didn't need magic to run, although they usually gave it a boost with a touch of the Weave. They even had more extreme weapons and technologies that nearly mimicked magic. Rumors had it that some could even harness the power of lightning for awesome feats.

So when Sunnydale arrived, a nation with technology several steps beyond what most Lantanese and Gondsmen could even imagine, they were filled with delight at the possibilities. They wanted more and more. Anything that they could learn about Sunnydale was wanted, needed even.

Most of what they collected, at great cost to them, was next to useless. Parts of computers, old radios and the like had no context as to how they worked, but the Lantanese were breaking them apart and putting them together and even making perfect reproductions. These reproductions were sold to others as status symbols showing that they had "real" Sunnydale goods. In the process, they advanced their knowledge of metallurgy and plastics by leaps and bounds. They began producing rubber and other raw materials to replicate tires and other "useful" items.

Contrary to what most Sunnydalers thought, most of the recycled goods were not actually being recycled. Most were being sold in the markets as luxury goods. In Waterdeep, an opened can of baked beans with lable sold for 40 gold pieces only to spend time on a shelf next to a priceless Kara-Tur vase. They could have made their own can of beans for much less than one gold piece.

Soon, though, shipping merchants learned of the thirst for Sunnydale goods that Lantan had and started bypassing the Sword Coast all together and heading by ship right south. The gold they made greatly outweighed the greater costs of a longer trip. Costumes were just one of the many things that people ferried down south to the industrious island nation, they went north with cheaper reproductions that they sold to other cities along the Faerune coast. A year after the Shift, there wasn't a Noble within 40 leagues of the coast that wasn't a proud owner of a Lantanese reproduction of a Sunnydale original. Of course, thanks to silver tongued merchants, most of those customers were ignorant of the reproduction nature.

Then a miracle happened.

That would be Kaleen's spell.

Like in Luskan, the various people who regularly wore pieces of Sunnydale costumes took on the aspects of their costume, regardless of how ignorant people were of their own costumes. Some costumes were sold in pieces, so there might be five people wearing parts of the same costume.

But the miracle wasn't another superhero. It wasn't the numerous gnomes who started healing quickly or were able to make blades spring from their knuckles that changed everything. It wasn't the human who discovered she could climb buildings and swing from a thread of alchemically generated spider-silk. It wasn't even the gnome who could fly, shoot fire from her eyes and lift a galleon over her head one handed. She might have been faster than a speeding arrow, more powerful than a charging dragon, able to leap mage towers in a single bound, but she wasn't Lantan's greatest hero.

No, the true hero of Lantan came in the most mundane costume of all.

The High Cleric of Gond had, like most others, bought as much Sunnydale goods as possible. He, unlike many others of his faith, was a fairly humble man and had forgone the yellow and blue spandex. He was not a man who was interested in capes and primary colors. The good cleric had little trust for large, impracticable hammers with statements of worth printed on the side. He had also ignored the gleaming plastic armor that provided no protection; red and gold weren't his colors anyway.

No, this humble high priest had chosen a simple gray suit with a name tag: Henry Ford. And he brought forth the Miracle of Mass Production. The Church of Gond canonized the industrial revolutionary as a saint, although they tended to gloss over Saint Henry's racist beliefs in favor of his inventions.

* * *

Frank Castle had been forced to flee Skullport when the true rulers, thirteen disembodied, flying, burning, intelligent skulls, had decided to take action against him. The one thing you never do in Skullport is disrupt trade, and that includes the slaves quarter that Frank had managed to damage severely. Frank is not, has never been, and will never be, a fan of slavery.

By the time the spell was broken, the symbol of the White Skull was well known along the Sword Coast. No one knew who he, she or they were, but most assumed the White Skull was a paladin that had decided a longsword was not the weapon of choice.

Frank Castle did have an effect on the field of combat. His weapons, transformed due to the spell, had not lasted long. Soon after his first rampage in Skullport, he had been forced to have new ones built to the same specifications. The dwarf he recruited was an old grizzled fellow that went by the name of Pillar of Gold who lived in the layer between Waterdeep and Skullport.

As the old dwarf had told Frank, the six Pillars of Gold were the Chosen of Dumathoin, one of the greater deities of dwarvenkind and the Patron of underground dwarves. Pill, as Frank had come to call him, was glad for the work, as being stuck in the ground was rather boring when you had nothing to do but stay there to keep Dwarfkind strong. The only thing Frank had to acquire was raw materials and he supplied these in the form of the weapons and armor of the fallen. Together, Frank and Pill had built an entire forge and factory in the sewers of Waterdeep.

The boy that Frank rescued would have a varied life, but would later be known as Mirt. Some would call him merciless, others would call him moneylender.

* * *

Kaleen was disappointed that her spell had not given her apprentice the knowledge of Elminster like she had hoped it would. She had tried several times with several different incantations, but the apprentice remained an ignoramus who could barely cast a light spell. With a growl of frustration, the Black Cloak researcher had moved the bust to storage and went back to the drawing board in an attempt to figure out what she had done wrong. It would remain there for five months before an overzealous Baneite decided that such a work of art was unworthy of existing.

The bust of Azuth destroyed, the spell ended.

But just like how the original victims of the Sunnydale version had lasting memories, so did those affected by this new version. The difference was that where Xander, Buffy, Willow and the others of that fateful night were affected for only a short period of time, a few hours at most, this new spell was in effect for months. The changes were rather dramatic.

When Laspin had been naught but a passenger in his own body, he experienced everything that Frank did. He knew the motivation, the reasoning and the feelings behind the Punisher's actions. He had also witnessed a single minded brutality that even the feared pirate Laspin Skullsplitter could have only dreamed of before the spell. The Punisher was hard working, dedicated and had a strict code of honor that superseded his belief in the sanctity of the law and the consequences for those who broke it. And then he had a zealot paladin's stance against evil and harmful criminal activity.

All that passed over to the man who had once been Laspin Skullsplitter. He would be legend.

* * *

In Lantan, four months after the High Priest of Gond felt the Spirit of Industry (as Henry Ford had become known as on the isle) the first Lantanese personal automobiles rolled off the lot. Their ships were outfitted with steam engines and their airships assisted with automated rudders and fans. The Industrial Revolution of Faerun had begun.

* * *

_I do not own any character referenced in this chapter. Thanks, be they many, go to Janessa Ravenwood, she of the great proofreading whom I bow before in fear and diffidence._

_On the Subject of Henry Ford, some will say that there is some debate about how racist he was, but in the end the paper he published printed Nazi statements. It's a fair bet that he had at least some anti-semetic leanings or otherwise he wouldn't have allowed those statements to be printed._

* * *

**Next time: When Emus Attack!**


	46. Chapter 46

**When Emus Attack**

* * *

In Sunnydale, none of this was noticed. They didn't realize the costumes had been sold. They weren't even truly aware of the added value Sunnydale pieces gained when transported and sold to others in far away lands. No, in Sunnydale, Joyce Summers was trying to figure out how to be President of Sunnydale. That was something easier said than done, as Joyce was never in the mental preparation stage of the election in which she anticipated winning the seat. And so she found herself stuck in the position having won the dubious honor of being the winning write-in candidate.

There were all sorts of things she had to deal with and she didn't quite have the hang of delegating down pat. However, when a bunch of nervous ecologists walked into the room, Joyce knew it was going to be trouble. Not that ecologist are normally trouble, it's just that she had developed a sense about the unusual living in the former Mouth of Hell. But when Sunnydale ecologists say there's a clear and present danger to their continued existence, she, as president, had to at least hear them out. The team was half way through their presentation when she held up a hand to pause them.

"Wait a minute, _emus_?" she asked, her incredulity heavy in her voice.

"Yes, they are a clear and present danger to the local ecosystem in its current fragile state," one of them said.

"_**Emus**_?" she asked again, even more incredulous this time.

"Precisely, Madame President," one replied as if it explained everything. Which it didn't.

"How did this come to be a problem? I'm still not seeing that," Joyce said. "I don't have a science background. The closest I come is a little bit of anthropology through my Art History degree. So pretend you're talking to a layperson (because you _are_) and start from the beginning."

The ecologists, their forward momentum on their presentation ceased, conferred with each other for a while before nodding. One stood up to begin again.

"As you know, when Sunnydale arrived, there were a number of fields and farms on the outer edges that didn't quite make it all the way through," the ecologist explained, pointing to the various effected sections of Sunnydale on the newly printed National Map.

"Okay," Joyce said, gesturing for them to continue.

"Well, in most cases, those farms were protected by new cliffs or the animals easily rounded up, or they stayed on the land with the most food," one ecologist explained. "Sheep are rounded up off the hills, cows tend to stay towards the closest hay bale or patch of grass and so on."

"I'm guessing the emus did not?"

"No, not hardly," the ecologist explained. "You see, early in the 20th century, emus were brought to the US primarily for zoos and the occasional farm, but it wasn't until the 1970s that emu farming really took off in the US. However, by the early 90s, people started thinking that they could get rich quick by raising emus."

"And that brings us to Sunnydale," said the second ecologist. She was not wearing the suit most of the scientists seemed to prefer, but a small tan vest, rubber boots, shorts and a t-shirt that read: "I'd rather be flyfishing." On her head was a green hat with a brim that circled her head with a multitude of hooks, lures and flies all over it. "Sunnydale was prime pop-farming territory. It was not far outside of LA; it was fairly lush in terms of coastal California; and real estate was cheap, real cheap. And so these pop-farmers-"

"Wait, pop-farming?"

"People who farm whatever the latest fad is, kinda like pop music?" the woman explained. Joyce nodded and motioned for her to continue. "These pop-farmers thought Sunnydale was the perfect place to get rich. And then the Shift happened. Most of these Pop-farms were on the outskirts of Sunnydale and emus require high fences to keep them in. We managed to keep a number in safe zones, but more than a few escaped with their young due to hunger or just lack of fences keeping them in."

"What about winter? Isn't it quite a bit colder than emus are used to?"

"Emus are actually quite adaptable," the woman replied. "And their survival and fortitude depend on two things that we didn't have back in California: Geothermal heating and the Underdark." The ecologists moved over to the Sunnydale map and pointed out several spots in Turnstone Pass. "These are places that the SSDF blew up as entrances to the Underdark and these are just the ones we knew of. In most cases the charges were set fairly deeply underground and blown so that there were still small caverns closer to the surface. When combined with the geothermal nature of this region, you can see how it is troublesome for us."

"No, not really, because I'm missing something, clearly," Joyce commented dryly.

"Oh, I forgot not everyone read the same reports we do. The Underdark is filled with edible mosses, plants and fungi that grow on walls and floors. They're significantly different from Earth Fungi," the woman explained. "They grow all over the place down there and there are even some that glow. We think that they are at least partially fed by magic, creating a sustainable ecosystem without sunlight. So, combining the heat from the earth and the year round food sources, the emus had plenty of chances to survive the winter. Then last winter was the problem."

"How so?"

"Emus breed in winter," she replied. "The female goes around to several males and lays a clutch for each. Each clutch can be somewhere between fifteen and fifty eggs each. The males hatch them and raise the young while the females go back and lay another clutch with other males."

"I'm starting to see the problem," Joyce nodded. "You're talking about heading off the problem before it becomes a real issue."

"Yes, exactly, especially since we could have a lot more than the seventy or eighty or so that escaped," the woman ecologist explained. "Figure half the population is male, so let's start with six hundred to two thousand eggs. Let's assume a third of them hatched, which is a little high in the wild, but it's best to assume the worst in these situations. We're talking about two hundred to seven hundred birds. In a couple of years they are old enough to start laying. That original seventy to eighty birds turns into 2,100 to 19,500 eggs. Assuming a third of them survive that's still thousands of birds"

"What about predators?"

"What predators? Sunnydale's arrival hit the landscape with the force of several nukes, considering the grosse mass displacement of air and land when we arrived," the first ecologist explained. Joyce wasn't quite clear on that and her confusion apparently showed. "Do you remember those photos from the first orc attack?"

Joyce nodded.

"Well that was a landscape that had been shredded by winds going faster than the speed of sound, the entire area around Sunnydale was scraped clean, leaving our fair city a green gem in a barren wasteland," the second ecologist explained as she fiddled with her vest. "The only saving graces are the mountains to the north and east, although the desert east of us wouldn't have been so terribly impacted in comparison to the forests south and southwest of us and the grassy knolls to the west. We ended up with a landscape that makes the Somme in 1918 look like a paradise."

"I wasn't aware that was our fault, but go on," Joyce said.

"We've been doing what we could to patch up the landscape but it's like putting a bandaid on a bullet wound," the woman continued. "Now, the emus are thriving on the new growth, the bugs and small animals that survived in the valleys and sheltered places. They live primarily on the fungus in caverns and Underdark entrances during the winter. Aside from the occasional magical creature, they have no predators in the wild and so the normal ecological pressures against them are fairly low."

"So what do you suggest?" Joyce asked as she leaned back in her swivel chair. The Mayor had good taste in furniture, and Allan Finch had given the chair to Joyce as a "happy election day" present. It was a nice blend of looks, comfort and stability. She could almost stand to sleep in it.

The ecologists looked at each other.

"At this point we're not sure," one said to the other. The flyfishing ecologist shrugged and nodded for her companion to continue. "We want to do some research and we need some help with that. Aside from some anecdotal accounts of herds of emus, we don't really know what's going on there. Are they seeing the same emu herd multiple times? Are there many survivors? Or are there just a few?"

"So you want permission and funding to send out an expedition to assess the emu situation?" asked Joyce.

"We need people too. There's a fair amount of equipment that we need to haul around," the flyfishing ecologist explained. She shrugged. "We've bought a magic tent that is bigger on the inside and everything stays in place when erected, but we need a team of at least five for this expedition and at least some of them need to have some kind of training to keep us alive if things go wrong."

"Isn't that like tempting Murphy?"

"I always assume things go wrong so I can be pleasantly surprised when they go well," the ecologist replied. "It comes from years of fishing. I also tell a good story."

"Are you pleasantly surprised often?"

"Not as much as I'd like to be honest."

Joyce nodded. "Fair enough. I think I know just the people to help you."

"Why do you have an evil smile?" the first ecologist asked, glancing briefly at the door as if making sure there was a clear getaway path.

"Oh, don't worry, it's not directed at you," Joyce replied, her evil grin widening.

"The numbers might not seem like much now, but we could be looking at populations numbering in the hundreds of thousands in only a few years judging by our projections," the flyfishing ecologist explained, ignoring Joyce's evil grin.

"And they're just eating resources left and right, correct?"

"Yes, they're disturbing already fragile soil, eating many bugs and plants that we need for a healthy environment, and, well, they're pretty mean if you get up close to them," the first ecologist explained, rubbing an already sore arm. "Anyone who goes near them probably shouldn't wear anything shiny because emus are liable to grab and steal it, even if the shiny is attached to the person."

"I think I know exactly the people to take care of this problem, or at least manage their populations," Joyce said with an evil grin. She pressed a button on her desk. "Odd-Bjorn? Send in Buffy with her friends. They need to feel my wrath for putting me in this chair."

"Again, Madame President? That's the fifth time this week," her secretary commented.

"I know," Joyce said with a grin. "Aren't I a stinker?"

* * *

Drizzt didn't know what to do with Liriel Baenre.

Gromph's little princess had accompanied the archmage of Menzoberranzan when he arrived in Sunnydale some weeks before. Joyce had given them refuge despite Drizzt and Vierna's arguments against such a course of action (Dinin had wisely stayed out of the discussion). While Drizzt only knew them by reputation, both of them had some rather large reputations. In the brief time Drizzt studied in Sorcery during his Academy training, Drizzt heard more than a few stories regarding the revolving door of Gromph's apprentices and his specialty spell: _Transmute Apprentice to Corpse_. It had several variations. Vierna, on the other hand, had lived for nearly a decade in the Baenre Court, and so had a more in depth understanding of the mentality of the Archmage. Having met each other multiple times on different footing it was safe to say that neither Vierna nor Gromph had a strong liking for the other. Liriel, however, they had only heard rumors of. Here in Sunnydale, she certainly jumped in the social pool with a splash.

Drizzt was socially conscious enough to realize he was considered a bit of an exotic beauty as far as Sunnydale High was concerned. He had sharp features that many women found attractive and hair that made more than a few of them jealous. His violet eyes were commonly commented upon. Still, even with this, he was pigeonholed in with Buffy, Willow and Xander as one of "that" crowd. It didn't help that he was the center of so much media attention considering the trial, his quasi-psychopathic brother and his semi-homicidal sister. That's not even mentioning his evil mirror-twin from the elemental plane of Goatees (he didn't know why Xander called it that, but name had stuck). Liriel was a bit different.

Instead of dealing with things by trying to fit in, the dark elven princess decided to be the center of attention without joining any group and had largely succeeded. She had rebuffed Harmony's crowd; ignored the rest of the former cheerleaders; looked down her nose at the clubs; politely declined membership in the Witches Circle; sent scathing statements towards the fan girls; blatantly ignored the student council and only gave the bare minimum of lip service to the faculty. Her clothing, if it could be called that, was classically Menzoberranzan, but covered rather _less_than the average American would wear to school and only slightly more than they would wear to the beach. In the last few months before the school year ended, Liriel had become the successor to the Queen C. But then she had locked onto the only other drow of a noble house going to the school: Drizzt.

Drizzt didn't know what to do with Liriel Baenre.

Not-at-_all_.

She would appear in the strangest places. She delighted in touching him in public and she seemed to have discovered how easy it was to sneak into his room when Buffy and Joyce were out. She sat next to him during lectures, she tackled him in the hallways and she would touch him in the most inappropriate places.

His mind went back to the day before during Professor Walsh' History of Psychology lecture. Professor Walsh had been teaching a second semester bridge course on psychology with the intent to help people along into the university after they graduated. Drizzt, having agreed to sign up with the rest of the Scooby Gang, had sat down with Buffy, Cordy, and Xander when Liriel had sat down next to him. Buffy smirked a bit and Cordy giggled. He still didn't know what had been so funny. Soon Professor Walsh had walked in and began the lecture. She had been discussing Freudian Psychology and the psychosexual aspects of culture when he suddenly felt Liriel Baenre's hand enter the front of his pants. More than a little shocked, he looked at her with surprise, only to see her not looking at him at all. In fact she was jotting down notes from the lecture! The dark elf maid had raised her hand.

"So when you are talking about psychosexual symbolic figures in culture," Liriel said while groping Drizzt from inside his pants, "Could this relate to the spider imagery used in the worship of Lloth? With the female dominated society, the spider could be used as an analogy to the vagina and clitoris, reinforcing the status quo. The legs are fairly phallic, representing the males of Drow society who are dominated by the larger and more important Priestesses of Lloth."

"Good example Liriel," Walsh said with a smile and a nod. "There are many examples of religious imagery on both Earth and Faerun that extend to the culture that follows said religions. Some are rather ironic like the sun symbol of Lathander, who is a male god, but has significant female imagery in the symbol of the Sun on the Horizon. This can be understood in two significant ways. The first is that Lathander as a notable fertility, vitality and health deity shows this in the female imagery as in most cultures women raise the children and act as healers. The second relates more to how the religion encourages sexual expression." Liriel's hand squeezed a little at this phrase, causing Drizzt to jump a little in his chair and gasp. He was lucky dark elves couldn't blush. Buffy and Cordy stifled laughter behind their hands.

Needless to say, Drizzt was a little too distracted for the rest of the lecture, but he hadn't wanted to make a fuss. Professor Walsh was never pleased when her lectures were disrupted. The last time Liriel had groped him in class, he had squeaked quite loudly. Professor Walsh had kicked the two of them out. As soon as they were out the door, Liriel had kissed him deeply before skipping away. Cordy only laughed at his troubles. Buffy told him to confront Liriel as soon as possible, but didn't give any suggestions as to how. Xander was completely confused since he didn't see a problem at all.

Drizzt didn't know what to do with Liriel Baenre.

* * *

Liriel Baenre was confused by Drizzt Do'Urden.

Here she was, the most desirable Baenre princess, a daughter of the First House of Menzoberranzan, and a damn sexy one at that, if she did say so herself. And she did. Liriel could turn any male drow head and a few of the female heads as well. _Humans_ drooled after her (but in hindsight, some of those drooled after anything with breasts). She was even sure some orcs were checking her out, but she wasn't interested. Basically, she could have had anyone she wanted. ANYONE. Except Drizzt who _never_looked at her with interest!

But Drizzt never looked her way. In fact, when she was wearing a little less than usual, he actually looked away. The boy was a prude. Honestly she never understood how he had survived so long before escaping to the surface world. She recalled the first time she had snuck into his room, naked and relaxing on top of his covers, waiting for him to pull out of his reverie, the state of meditation that takes the place of sleep for elves. She had watched as his eye fluttered oh, so sexily open and then as wide as dinner plates when he spotted her. The sound that came out of his mouth was something between a scream and a squeal, but it was high-pitched enough to wake the Slayer and her mother, and bring them into the room armed and ready. A moment after them the Secret Service appeared, all pointing their tiny little weapons at _her_. The assemblage found Drizzt speechless and pointing at Liriel with a surprised look. She merely raised a snow white eyebrow invitingly to the drow.

The Summers mother was not pleased by her sneaking into their house and slipping naked into Drizzt's bed. Buffy was not so worried about that, but was upset that _anyone_ could get inside without her knowing. Liriel smirked. Amy's wards were good, but she was better. After Liriel had been forced to dress and come down stairs, Joyce summers had given her the Talk regarding her relationship with the Do'Urden dark elf. And even though Liriel would never show it, the Matron of House Summers was a bit intimidating. The irony was that she had been given the talk three times already by Buffy, Xander and _Cordelia_of all people.

"If you are just playing with him, or you are just going to abandon him after you have your way with him I will introduce you to horrors that even you cannot even comprehend even with your specialized education. You should fear my wrath." But the fact of the matter was, Liriel _was_ serious. She wanted Drizzt Do'Urden like she had wanted no other male. He was smart, an excellent swordsman, reasonably good at magic (for a swordsman), had abs like a washboard and buns of steel. She liked his buns a lot. And best of all, he was the one drow her family (excepting her father, who loved the irony) wanted her to have _nothing_ to do with. In other words, he was _perfect_.

So why in all the hells was he _not_ interested in her?

* * *

"MooOOoom! You can't be serious!"

Joyce looked down at her daughter with a smug smile on her face.

"You did say you were having trouble keeping busy," Joyce reminded her. "I guess after the election, you had all that free time, since you weren't busy arranging my life for me. So, I've got the power, I figured I might as well use it for some petty revenge."

"No mom! With great power comes great responsibility! You can't go to the dark side!" Buffy said in a frantic tone.

"I'm your mother, not your watcher; your pop-culture references do not work on _me_, young lady," Joyce said, enjoying the uncomfortable squirm Buffy gave in the chair opposite her own. "Now, you're going to be spending the next two weeks living in a tent without a shower, without running water or even a regular supply of food. Only a few changes of clothing and not a store in sight. You'll be walking through muck, and bogs and downed trees and boulders strewn across the landscape."

"Fine!"

"Don't worry, Buffy, you won't be suffering alone," Joyce said with a mysterious smile. She described the basic goals and the core of the issue.

* * *

"We have a _what _problem?" Buffy gaped at her mother like she just said apes just flew out of Margaret Thatcher's ear and actually expected her daughter to know who Margaret Thatcher was.

"We have a growing Emu problem," Joyce said amicably.

"But-"

"They're threatening our crops," Joyce said with a smile.

"But-"

"They're hurting all the widdle native wild animals," Joyce continued with a poutish look.

"But-"

"And since you're such a good kingmaker, you're going to take care of the problem!" Joyce said with a brilliant grin. "And I know that since you're the Slayer, you won't let down this nation in its oddest hour."

"You're an evil, evil woman," Buffy told the older blonde.

"And I'm still your mother, so get to it," Joyce said making a shooing motion towards the door.

Needless to say, Buffy did not consider it a worthy use of her talents to go on a wild emu hunt. It wasn't like these were really serious problems, right? They were just- Buffy paused and turned towards the scientists.

"Wait, what is an emu anyways?" Buffy asked the ecologists.

* * *

Ten minutes later Buffy was being towered over by one of those remaining in captivity. Buffy eyed the emu, and the emu eyed Buffy.

"We're hunting mutant demon ostriches?" Buffy asked.

"First of all, they're not demons, their ratites from Australia, though, so they _are_related to the African bird, and we do have a few of them in the zoo farms," the ecologist said. "Second of all, we're not exactly hunting them, we're going on a mission to take stock of their groups to get an accurate hypothesis on our projections for the future populations and the impact of their extended invasive nature on the local ecology."

Buffy looked at them wide eyed.

"Huh?"

"We want to have a good guess at how many there will be in a year or so," the ecologist explained.

"Well, why didn't you say that?"

"I just did."

"But say it like that the first time," Buffy demanded.

The ecologist was saved from Buffy's lack of scientific vocabulary by the arrival of Team Emu, consisting of Xander, Amy Madison, with Drizzt's unhappy sister Vierna there as part of her community service to prove her loyalty. Xander had decided to dress as if he were going on an African safari complete with the steel pith helmet. He was given one of the few tazer guns not issued to the Initiative. His light training with the SSDF gave him plenty of practice for light work such as this, but he didn't want to have to depend on it. Amy was dressed more reasonably in jeans, well worn hiking boots and a light jacket. She had a small magical haversack she'd managed to score off a trader a few months before; it was quite a handy item. Vierna wore the blackest John Lennon-style sunglasses she could find, some of Joyce's old flower-power bellbottoms, and a white tube top. She also glared around at the others as if to say: "I hate you all." It was probably true.

"Team Emu reporting!" Xander said with a salute. "We could combine them and call us 'Temu' for short."

Judging by the looks he got, his suggestion was most likely not going into regular practice.

"Great, you're all here," the flyfishing ecologist said, clapping her hands together. "Let's get you outfitted and we'll go looking for-" the tall emu took a liking to Buffy's earrings and attempted to rip it out "-emus. Oh, right, you probably shouldn't wear anything shiny."

Buffy, having caught the Emu's head just barely before it clamped down on her ear, looked at the ecologist with an annoyed look. "You should have told me that before hand."

"Wait, it'll just bite us if it sees something shiny?" Amy asked, raising a hand as if she were in class.

"Not necessarily, but they do like to have nice things for their nests," the woman reported.

All of the collected team glanced at the hovering emus suspiciously and quickly divested themselves of their shinies.

* * *

_Extreme Emu Expedition, Day 1_

_Today we found our first mob of emus in the western valley just before it turns to rolling hills and grasslands in the foot hills of the Nether Mountains. At this point, where the sharp mountains hit the savanna woodlands of Turnstone Pass is prime habitat for the ratites. In the morning we identified ten probable hatching sites in the geothermal caverns that abound in this region. The frequent precipitation and limestone have carved a number of passages to the Underdark. While normally this would allow the birds entrance to deep caverns, the majority of these caverns were closed for national security purposes, allowing for more shallow caverns, but still allowing the warm waters to seep through the rubble of collapsed passages._

* * *

The first part of the Emu hunt was the most arduous. Climbing down the Sunnydale plateau and into the rolling hills was no easy task, even with the newly engineered switch-backing road leading down to Orctown, the new permanent settlement at the base of western slope. Ironically, the vast majority of the town's occupants were not orcs, but visiting merchant caravans and a clan of orogs more interested in booze than fighting.

The settlement was named such because that was where Buffy and Drizzt had first sighted the tanarukks from Hellgate Keep. The Shaman's orcs weren't too happy about the naming scheme, but they didn't have much say in the matter. Once down the trail, they stopped for a while and replenished their water supply.

"Now, we're going to be in the bush for several days, moving early in the morning and continuing until darkness," reported the flyfishing ecologist. "I'd like to remind people that it gets light much later here in the valley and gets dark earlier. It can also get hot or cold quite quickly with the mountains so close. If you need any other equipment for camping or traveling, now is the time to get it before we leave civilization."

Buffy needed a new pair of boots, something that would actually not hurt her feet to walk in, and got a nice pair for a song in Orctown. However, Buffy would regret not having worked them in ahead of time.

"Do you see that off in the distance? That's an emu herd," said the flyfishing ecologist.

"Don't you mean flock because they're birds?" Amy Madison asked.

"Actually, the proper collective noun for emu is mob," Vierna stated. Her shocked companions turned with stunned expressions. The dark elven princess shrugged as she fiddled with her translation amulet. "I've been working on my ESL certification."

They crept up closer so that only their heads peeked over a small rolling hill with the mountains at their back.

"Now watch closely as the worgs circle the mob," said the ecologist. "They're cunning hunters in these hills, with the lack of other megapredators, worgs are clearly the dominant spot on the food chain. Worgs, with their wolven bodies and intellect comparable to cheerleaders-"

"HEY!" protested Buffy loudly, catching the attention of both worg and emu. "Oops!"

The ecologist paused a moment and then realized the mob was headed right towards them.

"Get off the hill and find some cover, don't try to out run them!"

"Why not?"

"They can sprint at highway speeds!"

And with that, Team Emu ran for cover. It wasn't long before the emus were sprinting over their hiding places. Buffy got an unfortunate foot on her head, but otherwise, they were fine. However, they were now between the Worgs and their prey.

"Now we run," the ecologist stated, but before any of them could attempt an escape, they were surrounded by the lupine creatures, all tooth and claws. One particularly large female stared the ecologist down. The Alpha female gazed at the human and licked her lips in anticipation of an easy meal.

"Does anyone here speak worg?" the ecologist asked worriedly as she shied away from one's feted breath.

"_Woof_," said Vierna, stepping up to the plate. The ecologist stepped back quickly, ducking behind the imposing dark elf. The others followed her lead, crouching low and moving quickly, but Vierna stood up without fear and started growling like she was rolling chunks of granite around in her throat.

The Worgs stopped, looked at her, and growled back. She growled at them some more and the conversation continued for some time with the humans looking on in confusion. The dark elven maiden turned towards them and shrugged before going back to speak with the wolfen creatures once more. "This is Grrr-Argh, and she's the leader of her pack. She says emus number in the mid tens, somewhere around fifty, for this mob, but it generally meets up with several other mobs near the rivers." The Worg growled some more before Vierna translated. "There are some dangerous mob leaders. They're better, faster, stronger-"

"I didn't know emus had that kind of technology," Xander quipped, earning a glare from Drizzt's sister. "I'll be quiet," he said as he hunkered down.

"_Good_," Vierna responded, her red eyes seeming to glow with rage even through her dark glasses. Xander gave an involuntary shiver, but stayed quiet. Vierna kept up her furry conversation. "The leaders are bigger, smarter too. And uh, I don't know the word, _niirel_? Uh, prone to excessive, prolonged and frequent attempts at reproduction? I know you humans are sensitive to references to sex."

"We've got horny giant emus?" Amy asked, looking to the ecologist for help. She just straightened her fishing hat and shrugged. Amy turned to her school mates who looked similarly confused. "How in hell?"

* * *

"Lord Manshoon," Ambassador Peris said with a bow before the long range communication mirrors. "It is an honor to speak with you once more." The archwizard looked out from the magic mirror with a disgusted look. "Is something the matter, my lord?"

"Yes, Peris, yes," the masked man replied. "It seems my partner Fzoul has vanished from Zhentil Keep with a large number of his followers."

"They are not here so far as I am aware, My Lord," Peris said.

"Yes, but I do believe that if they managed to pull such a stunt without my knowledge they would not be interested in letting a known agent of _mine_aware," was the man's sarcastic reply.

"Of course my Lord. What do you wish me to do?"

"Be aware, use the assets of the Black Cloaks in the market place," Manshoon commanded. "Find out as much as possible and report to me. Remember, no Baneite can be trusted."

"Yes Lord Manshoon, that is a lesson I have long since learned," replied Peris. On the other side of the magical mirror, Manshoon chuckled mirthlessly.

"A lesson we all learn or die if not learned soon enough," he said flatly. "And you might as well use any other sources you might have at your disposal."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Peris replied with a perfectly schooled face full of confusion.

"Of course you don't," the archmage smirked without humor.

"I shall inform you whether yea or nay," Peris replied dutifully. His heart was pounding in his chest, the news did not bod well.

"See that you do." And with that, the image was gone. Peris let the blood drain from his face. This was particularly bad. No, it was very bad. Peris downed a glass of water and poured himself another, downing that one as well.

'Kellindil, he might have some ideas,' thought the Harper/Zhentarim Agent to himself. Racing down the hallway, he knocked on the elf's door and opened it as soon as the elf's voice made a sound.

"Fzoul Chembyl has left Zhentil Keep with most of his sub-clerics," Peris blurted out. He suddenly realized that the Moonwood ambassador was not alone. Also in the room were the other ambassadors and Economics Secretary Chase. After an _oh-my-deity-what-did-I-just-say? _moment, his next reaction was rather smooth. He glanced around at them and looked at them flatly. "Just pretend you never heard that from me."

"What are you saying?" Fret asked.

"I mean that the Chosen of Bane has just up and left his power-base for somewhere else," Peris said. The blood drained from the faces of the other Faerunian ambassadors. "And you can understand that this is not official and I am still in my room."

Fret looked at him silently. So did Kellindil. Then both nodded. Ambassador Axegrinder was about to argue, but finally sided with the others.

"I don't understand," Chase said. The ambassadors turned to him with grim looks.

"Mr. Chase, I think it is time for you to leave," Kellindil said. "Pretend you have heard none of this and ask Joyce to visit."

"…that bad?"

"Oh, it has the potential to be much worse than bad," Fret said "Perhaps call for Rupert and General Hennessey as well."

"Oh, if it's that bad I'm calling the whole Cabinet," Chase said, moving to a telephone.

"If you don't mind, we'll be contacting our superiors as well," Fret said. Chase nodded.

"I'll have the staff put together tea in the sitting room," Peris said.

* * *

_Extreme Emu Expedition Day 2_

_Whereas the first day had more travel, today we discovered how bad the emu problem was. When we awoke, the tent was apparently in prime emu habitat, making it rather easy for us to get a better estimate of the local mob's numbers._

_Buffy took the initiative and began our estimation, even bringing back samples for us to study up close. We also discovered that the magical battery requires a stronger insulator casing that can withstand heavy impact and some slashing damage._

* * *

That night, they camped out on a hill that had some shelter. The fallen tree wasn't much, but it protected them from the harsh winds flowing down from the mountains. A fire was impossible as it just wouldn't light, but Amy had packed some magical MREs and they got to chow down, but food would be more scarce the further they ranged from Sunnydale proper.

The wind was warm, but forceful, nearly knocking over the tent they had set up. It was a special case, bigger on the inside than the outside, but everything stayed in stasis when the camp was rolled up. It was big enough to sleep ten people comfortably, but a good portion of it was taken up by the science equipment and a computer running off of a magic battery.

They awoke to find themselves surrounded by about sixty emus, many of which decided to pluck at the silver rings and pegs holding the tent in. Buffy stood up, put her hands on her hips, and was apparently completely nonthreatening if one were to judge by the reaction of the emus.

"Go on! Shoo!"

Instead of running, an emu decided that her pajama button was pretty and pulled it off.

"Hey! That's not nice!" she yelled as she pulled her shirt closed. The curious emu swallowed the button and went back for another only to be blocked by a knife hand to the beak. "Ha!"

The emu seemed to get annoyed and took a step forward, looking the shortish woman in the eye. It had an easy time at this because they were almost the same height, the emu only slightly taller. Its feathers on its chest puffed up, making it seem larger as it gave Buffy the hairy eyeball. And then it went in for another button, only to be blocked again by Buffy's hand.

"Hey! No means no, feather head!" she declared before attempting to tackle the bird that probably outweighed her by a few kilos. She succeeded on getting on it's back, but didn't anticipate it standing up. Panicking from the creature now clinging to its back and pulling on its feathers, the emu got back up onto its feet and took off running. Buffy, normally a very self assured young woman, discovered that the emu could sprint at near highway speeds. She grabbed on for dear life, preventing the terrified bird from shaking her loose. It zigged and zagged in attempts to dislodge her unwanted passenger, and made a quick 180, charging back at the tent where a startled Xander was being prodded by ten other birds. Xander saw the Buffy laden bird charging in his general direction and ran back inside the tent with an exclamation of fear and surprise. Unfortunately for everyone, the emu charged right through the flaps, ducking it's head low and closing its eyes.

Amy, who had been getting dressed after they kicked Xander out of the tent, screamed as first Xander, then Buffy riding an emu charged into the tent. Vierna, having been about for hours, working on her studies for the Admittance test and ESL, was squinting because it was too bright with the flap open, temporarily blinding her. She slid on her sunglasses (something that was rather a necessity for surface drow), reached under her pillow and pulled out her flail.

"DON'T HIT THE COMPUTER!" the ecologist screamed as she tried to cover the monitor with her body. With no exit in sight, Buffy's emu friend took to hitting the corners of the tent as if to test for another exit. Were this a normal tent, the frantic emu would have made its own exit, but the magic expanding the space also protected it from damage.

Outside the tent, the emus heard the noise, but couldn't detect any other kind of action, as the magic tent didn't move at all from outside observation. When Xander opened the flap, hoping the crazy bird would leave, it had the unexpected result of inviting more emus in, who got upset when they saw their buddy going insane. Soon five crazy birds were charging all over the place, but avoiding the exit because Xander was standing right next to it. Amy called on her arcane powers and made the air thicken, which did slow them down, but when Xander tried to run up and tackle one to the ground, the spell slowed him as well. He missed the emu by the slightest of margins. Hitting the ground, he was quickly trampled, shredding his trousers, but luckily there weren't any significant wounds.

Vierna was getting a headache from both the noise and the light. Swinging her flail while still partially blinded was probably a poor decision, but swing it she did, right into the magical battery powering the computer. The ceramic casing cracked, sending the battery flying. The ecologist ran over and grabbed the cords to the computer in the hopes of preventing the entire apparatus from flying off the desk.

Buffy, opening her eye after a moment of panic, realized that both her and the emu were heading back out the flap that was now opened by Amy's magic. Jumping off the bird's back, she accidentally elbowed another emu intent on escape, sending it flying into the broken battery, sending a jolt through the bird that sent up a rather appetizing smell as it flew across the tent and fell down on the other side. As the humans and elf were recovering from their abrupt pre-breakfast exercise, the other emus ran right out the open tent flap. When the silence reigned once more, Amy let loose a breath she didn't eve know she was holding and slumped to her bedroll.

Buffy checked Xander over for wounds, but he just had a few scratches. He sniffed the air.

"Funny," he said.

"What?"

"Fried emu doesn't smell like chicken."

* * *

"So, now that we're all here, what exactly is going on?" Joyce asked, sitting down in the head chair. Glancing around she realized that they were still missing one person. "Would anyone care to tell me where my vice president is?" She quickly scanned the room and sighed. "Great blank stares all around. Why don't we get started? My missing VP can get caught up later. Mr. Peris?"

"Ah, yes," Peris said, hesitating as he tried to figure out where to begin. He sighed inwardly and decided that a full reveal might be the best way. "First of all, I am known as a member of the Zhentarim, but that is not precisely true." He glanced about the room and pulled out a strange necklace of a stringed lyr. "I am actually One Who Harps."

The locals' eyes widened in sudden realization, but they nodded. The Sunnydale crowd did not have the same reaction. Kellindil chose to save him. Standing up, the elf nodded to the others assembled.

"The Harpers are a clandestine organization that was created to combat a variety of threats," the Moonwood ambassador explained. "As a whole, they owe allegiance to no nation, nor to any organization other than the Harpers themselves, though certain nations endorse and support their actions. Mr. Peris is in quite a bit of danger by revealing himself, especially since he is probably the highest placed member of Those who Harp in the Zhentarim, although his true resources into that organization is stunted by being the Zhentarim ambassador to Sunnydale."

"Lord Manshoon knows I am a Harper, but I am more valuable to him alive than tortured for information, especially since I have brought quite a bit of income to the organization," Peris explained. "However, to explain the whole situation, you need a bit of history."

"About the Zhentarim?"

"Yes," Peris said, before taking a sip of water. "The Zhentarim in its current form was created by Manshoon two or three hundred years ago, I'm not exactly sure when, the older members of Those Who Harp would know better than I, but it was originally just a part of Zhentil Keep, Lord Manshoon's family estate, which he inherited when his father was assassinated. Lord Manshoon was traveling at the time, and began first delving into the Art. When he returned, he destroyed the usurpers, and built the current form of the Zhentarim as a way to increase his political and economic power. But any organization that is as..._flexible_...in its methods of economic gain makes enemies."

"Excuse me? Flexible?" General Hennessey asked, holding up a finger.

"The Zhents are scum," Axegrinder replied. "They aren't picky about recruits, but they sure ain't nice. They kill; murder; poison wells; salt fields; wipe out whole villages just to gain land or resources."

"And we've been dealing with these people?" one member of the cabinet asked in a horrified tone.

"In your defense," Peris said, "you couldn't afford to be picky, but not all Zhents are the same, myself included. However, eventually, Lord Manshoon's arcane and martial wings required a bit of balance and so he made a deal with Fzoul Chembryl, the High Priest and Chosen of Bane."

"When you say chosen, what does that entail?" Giles asked. "We have a slightly different usage of the word."

"Various deities have Chosen mortals," Kellindil explained. "What it means, exactly, varies from deity to deity, but in general, strength of arm and body, virtual immortality, occasionally regeneration of body and sometimes it brings arcane or divine abilities along with it. Chosen are, forgive the repetition, chosen because they represent the ideal of that Deity's followers. For example, Dove Falconhand and her sisters, Alustrial and five others, are Chosen of Mystra. Elminster is the eldest of Her Chosen, being some thirteen hundred years old and all are gifted in the Art quite beyond simple dabblers."

The Sunnydalers were understandably surprised. They had heard the term before, but assumed it was something like Buffy's situation with the Slayer essence. To think of someone thirteen hundred years old was hard to imagine. Joyce filed it for later use, but motioned them to continue.

"And the Church of Bane, what does it represent?"

"Bane is the deified personification of Tyranny," Peris explained. "World domination is the smallest of his goals. Control over people, animals, everything is its goal, but the followers, while primarily the power-hungry type, are not as expansive in their goals. Fzoul, however, is more than just a simple zealot."

"Harkening back to his being the Chosen of Bane, I assume." Joyce asked. Peris nodded in confirmation.

"Right. Now, Lord Manshoon considers this to be the worst mistake he ever made," Peris continued. He squirmed a little in his seat. He was not used to having so many people staring at him like this. In battle asking orders was one thing, but for him to talk like this, it made him uncomfortable, and he started sweating. "Fzoul started gathering followers in a greater and ever-increasing pace. He started unofficially enforcing Bane as the One True Faith of the Zhentarim some time ago. People like my cover story, a worshiper of Mask, have been pushed out of top positions for some time. Lord Manshoon has been waiting for Fzoul to make a move for some time, but didn't want to give away anything. For the past three decades or so, the Zhentarim has been a massive chessboard, with Lord Manshoon and Fzoul moving the pieces. In some ways, Sunnydale may well have saved my life by putting me out of the line of fire."

"That's fine," the General said. "But why are we here?"

"Because Fzoul finally made his move," Peris explained. "Fzoul and the core of his Banite clergy have left Zhentil Keep, or at least have vanished from sight. It is doubtful that he could manage to move that many people out of the city proper without Lord Manshoon being aware of the action."

"So basically, the Zhentarim is about to have a civil war," General Hennessey replied with a dark scowl. He was not pleased by the news.

"I don't know, right now, you know as much as I do, and this came from Lord Manshoon himself," Peris explained. "Lord Manshoon would not have told me if he did not intend for me to inform Sunnydale. Fzoul has been very interested in Sunnydale for some time. He considers you weak and consistently criticized Lord Manshoon's choice to not attempt a military takeover of your nation. It is very likely that Fzoul will be bringing his army here."

"You say his army, don't you mean the Zhentarim army?" Giles asked.

"No, Fzoul would not allow his divinely blessed army to have any infidels in it," Kellindil answered for the tired Zhent ambassador. The other ambassadors nodded in agreement. "There is some overlap, but not entirely. This is a Holy war for him, not a politico-economical one."

"We need more information," General Hennessey said gruffly. "We can't go into a full on war blind. We need information, and we need it fast."

"Lady Alustriel and Dove will be perfectly willing to assist," the Silverymoon Ambassador said. "We've been collecting information on the Zhents for some time."

The General nodded in thanks, but didn't say anything more.

"What concerns me the most," Kellindil said, "is that Fzoul has vanished from the public eye. He is not one to give up the power that his presence gives. If he has left, it is because he is planning something big."

"I want as much information on this as possible," Joyce said. "but for now, quietly put people on alert. We'll talk tomorrow on this again."

People nodded, got up and went to work. The various ambassadors went out to contact their various governments and to get the requested information. The military and Initiative were put on alert. Due to several leaks in the past few months, the police were _not_ put on alert, as they didn't want to cause a panic.

* * *

_Extreme Emu Expedition, Day 3_

_Today we dined on emu for the first time, having found one recently deceased. They taste remarkably like beef, even for being a bird. We saved their feathers, blood, and tissue samples which we stored in the powered cooler._

_Amy worked hard at building a new casing for the magical battery that was damaged the previous day. While our attempts at finding clay were unsuccessful, Miss Madison was able to magically transmute some creek silt into the proper material, after which we used the coals and a touch of magic to bake a new ceramic casing._

_The rest of the day was spent attempting to trace the lives and patterns of the emus during the winter months._

* * *

"Hey look at this!" Amy said, motioning the others over. She pointed towards some distinct green shells.

"Yup, those are emu egg shells," said the ecologist. "There's probably a nest around here, too."

Xander glanced at Amy, who shrugged. He turned back to the ecologist.

"Um, you're standing in it," he said, slightly hesitant. She looked down in surprise and jumped to the side.

"Uh, no offense, or anything," Buffy said, "but you're not a bird scientist are you?"

The woman looked like she was going to argue for a second, but she gave in. "No, not really. I spent three years studying whale patterns and well, not too many whales this far inland."

"You speak truth," Xander agreed.

"So why did you get this job?"

"I skipped the staff meeting to go fly fishing," she admitted. "I was nominated...the vote was unanimous."

"It's a fair cop," Buffy said. This time she got the funny looks. "What? I can't use Giles-speak?"

"Just don't," Amy said. "With you it feels unnatural."

"I wonder if these hatched here?" the scientist asked.

"How would you know?"

"Me? Probably only if I watched one hatch," she admitted. "Let's continue on."

They continued on, going from cavern to cavern, noting several that were previously undocumented and open to the elements. As they went further inside, they discovered phosphorescent mushrooms.

"These are edible," Vierna replied. "In fact, Menzoberranzan considers them to be quite the delicacy. They have a slightly tangy flavor which goes well with fresh rothe."

Xander poked a stick at some blue glowing mushrooms.

"What about these?"

"How should I know? I'm a priestess, not a ranger!" she snarled.

"Hey!" Buffy said sharply. "You're the only one of us who's lived in the underdork!"

"Under_dark_, Buff, Underdark," Amy quietly corrected.

"Whatever! You shouldn't yell at us for making assumptions, especially since you do all the time!" Buffy continued.

"Actually, when we're on this trip, we try not to make assumptions, but just gather data," the ecologist reminded them. "Making assumptions makes for bad science."

"Um," Xander said.

"Honestly, if you want to know how to survive in the Underdark alone without magical support, ask my idiot brother as he seems to know all," Vierna continued as if the others hadn't spoken.

"You know, for a priestess who was dropped like a handful of poop, you sure seem pretty uppity!"

"Um," Xander said.

"Well, sorry for disappointing you! At this point the only way for me to get back into Lloth's good graces would be to sacrifice all of you to her, host a party, roast your souls over an open pit of hellfire and give birth to a demonic spawn of one of her handmaidens!"

"So when hell freezes over?" Buffy asked.

"Actually that's just south of Trondheim, so it freezes quite frequently in the winter," the scientist put in with a helpful smile.

"Nobody asked you!" Amy, Buffy and Vierna snapped.

"Um," Xander said.

"Vierna, all high and mighty, looking down her nose at us all the time," Amy taunted. "You can't even fight without doing more damage to us than to the enemy! You're useless, no wonder Lloth flushed you out of her system!"

Vierna launched herself at the witch, who pulled her fist back and aimed a blow at the dark elf maiden's nose.

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF TWINKIES! DOES NO ONE ELSE SEE THE GIANT TREE WALKING AROUND WITH THE GUYS IN GREEN ROBES?" Xander bellowed, pointing out the entrance to the cave where new vegetation was sprouting all over the visible countryside. His yell shocked Amy and Vierna off balance, with Vierna falling flat on her face. Amy, unbalanced by the lack of target, went flying forward and ended up punching Buffy in the shoulder. The blonde glared at her friend and brushed off the blow like it was nothing. "Seriously, like fifty people out there in green robes! The giant tree's shooting seeds from its fingers like bullets from a pistol."

The ladies slowly turned around to see a band of druids casting spells to reinvigorate the landscape from the previous spring's damage. Even after a year, the environment had yet to recover, which was one of the problems with the Emu explosion. However, these divine servants of nature were making quite a bit of progress. In general, the denizens of the High Forest weren't quite as pleased with the appearance of Sunnydale as many other peoples of the North were. They had no need of increased trade, and they had no interest in advancing their level of technology. Add to the fact that Sunnydale's arrival decimated a portion of the High Forest that had taken a year of magical assistance to recover, Sunnydalers were not the Druids' favorite people.

Turnstone Pass had gone through many incarnations going back centuries. Before the Crown Wars shattered the various elven empires, it was part of the High Forest in the Empire of Aryvandaar, a wooded land that stretched from the Spine of the World to the north and down to the banks of the Delimbiyr to the south, a forest of which only remnants remain. It was a mining place for the Netheril Empire and several of their floating cities were built of peaks cut from several Nether Mountains. With the fall of Netheril, the refugees fled to Ascalhorn, later to become Hellgate Keep, a fell place of demonic hoards crowded behind prison wards forged of the greatest magics. Thus constrained, they reproduced, crossbred, and mutated, falling into clans that fought an ongoing demonic civil war. After Hellgate's hordes were contained, the forest pushed back, the landscape changed once more. Netheril was long since a memory, the massive desert Anauroch took its place and the eastern portions of Turnstone Pass turned to sagebrush and grasslands where the mountains met the desert. To the west of the River Shining, the rolling hills, infested with orcs, demons, or combinations of both, were grasslands on par with the Great Plains of North America. Tall grasses, sparse copses of trees, and boglands competed for territory as the many tributaries of the region shifted, merged and split, only to do all three over again.

Before Sunnydale's arrive, Turnstone pass was a largely abandoned trail that hadn't been regularly used since Ascalhorn had become Hellgate Keep, as stated before, a city-fortress infested with creatures descended from devils and demons summoned up from the bowels of the planes, as the lesser of those demons tended to venture forth for food and slaves for the greatest of the demons, the Balor Grintharke, undisputed lord over Hellgate Keep. Wards were in place to prevent more from arriving, but that did not prevent newborn infernal and abyssal denizens from leaving their prison. Since they were born on the prime material plane, mystical laws considered them native to said plane. Sunnydale discovered this the hard way when Kaanyr Vhok invaded at the head of the army sent to destroy and enslave them. They chose pathways through the upper levels of the Underdark to keep the element of surprise, not that it helped them in the end. It was not uncommon for demonic patrols to take missions into the wilds of Turnstone Pass, encouraging a lack of civilization in the region.

Sunnydale's arrival brought with it a sudden displacement of air, akin to an explosion that flew like a shock wave west, east, north and south and even up and down. The areas closest to it were completely cleared of flora and fauna, leaving only bare ground, if even that, in its wake. To the north and north-east, the shock wave was largely contained by the Nether Mountains, but even with that barrier the sonic explosion was unforgettable. There were more than a few people struck deaf by the sound that day. The further one got from Sunnydale, the less dreadful the results; Sundabar, for example, only had glass shattered and the buildings shaken like a small quake. However, the surface of Turnstone Pass was decimated by Sunnydale's arrival and was a mess of downed trees, shattered earth and stagnant water that turned into a series of bogs from where the arrival changed the course of rivers and streams. This brought about it several months of massive erosion caused by the lack of vegetation holding back the soil, and led to series of tainted rivers clogged with detritus and debris. Normally known as the Shining River, the Delimbiyr River was the color of coffee with a heavy dose of milk. By the time it got down to Daggerford on the Sword Coast, it dragged along with it dead fish, logs, and silt as well as any other detritus within its banks. When the river flooded the spring after Sunnydale's arrival, the Delimbiyr dumped its load on the land, the salt from Sunnydale's waterfront sinking into the lower floodplains.

The arrival of the town was felt much further than the shock wave of its immediate arrival. In Daggerford, deep to the south of Sunnydale, fishermen and people who depended on the river for their livelihoods were out of work or dead. Spells were cast, hoping to purify the water before it could permanently salt the farm lands that depended on it for water and revitalization with the floodplain. While a few clerics casting spells can help on the small-scale, the Delimbiyr was nearly the size of the Danube, and served a similar purpose in terms of travel and location to the Sword Coast. The sheer volume of water that coursed through its banks each day was more than any number of clerics could hope to purify with common spells. Further up the River Shining, locks were clogged, damns of silt and stone and wood backed up water, transforming the region.

To the Southwest, the closest portions of the High Forest fell to the wave of displaced air, knocking down trees that had stood for centuries. The wave of air continued on though the forest, but the further it went, the weaker it was, until the thicker portions of the forest just felt an unnaturally stiff breeze. Considering this effect, it was not long before the various orders of Druids took notice. Their work began in the immediate locales of their Orders. They restored habitat and worked to ensure fertility in both flora and fauna. They removed blockages in the rivers and slowly made their way northward to where Sunnydale was making itself noticed. It took a year before the Druids following Silvanus arrived in Turnstone Pass. Some of the local Stone Giants had cast their own spells on the earth before then, summoning up stones, shaping them and the more powerful of them even brought life back to the barren landscape. However, for all their hard work, it was not enough. The damage was done, the scar opened for the world to see.

Life still existed in the valleys and sheltered places among the craggy peaks. These places were the lucky spots, where flora and fauna still lived. Drizzt and his subsequent trackers survived because of these secluded valleys, as did much of the surviving orcs. The sheltered spots became special places where their seeds spread across the newly opened landscape. Sunnydale also assisted, although that was somewhat involuntarily. Seeds, spores, and sprouts from Southern California species survived. Many of them lived well and thrived without native competition, in those small places where soil remained. It was also the heated nature of the Nether Mountains, their place above a hotspot that provided hot water, steam and temperatures higher than in most other places of the North. This allowed species to live that normally would have died. As birds, squirrels, mice and other California-native (and some not so native) species flew, burrowed, climbed, ran, swam and scattered to and from the newly arrived city, they spread seeds, increasing the presence of Sunnydale's flora.

The Druids, having had many a debate on what to do about the upstarts in the nonnative city, eventually decided to fix the damage, but not to act outwardly hostile. Some Orders, like those following Silvanus, understood that one must take the good with the bad, and that nature is nature, beyond even the Forest Lord's ability to totally command. Other Orders, like those following the bestial Malar, were still of the opinion that the arrival of Sunnydale simply meant the druids had easy prey. Eldath, the goddess of the calming aspects of Nature, cautioned her followers to not view Sunnydale as an enemy, and that it was unlikely this devastation was their intent.

The debate was never truly settled, but Eldath's followers did seem to prevail for the most part, taking a wait and see approach. That was not enough for several orders of druids, who appeared now in Turnstone Pass to mitigate the damage as much as they could. It was amazing what fifty druids and a trent druid monk could manage if they put their minds to it.

* * *

The Shaman of Ilneval walked back to his people and summoned the Elders.

Orcish society varies from tribe to tribe, but there are two things that are always true with orcs: "never mess with an orc's mother" and "an old orc means a smart orc."

Orcs, because of their warring, clannish culture, tended to have a female/male ratio weighted greatly to the former. Males tended to die quick and young as most orc cultures don't have organized military training beyond "go kill that." As a result polygamy was hardly unusual and most orcs were raised by groups of mothers who were equally in charge of their male's offspring regardless of who actually gave birth to a specific child. Mothers were held as the most important figures in the tribes since they raised the children and usually trained the warriors before they went out to fight. The result was a strange dichotomy of male deity worship and mother worship that was not aligned with their deific figures. "Yo momma" jokes were not acceptable in orc society and spouting them off was enough to earn at least a belt in the gob, if not a sword in the gut.

When it came to elders, both male and female, there was a reason they were so powerful: they lived when all others died. It was important because it enforced certain beliefs on the tribe, and certain practices.

In the Three Tribes of Sunnydale, there was a bit of an upheaval when the Shaman of Ilneval took over. Normally in times of strife, the xenophobic priesthood of Grumsh held control, enforcing the brutal lifestyle on the young males. Now, in the year that they Three Tribes had settled in Sunnydale, a different set of ideals took over, especially considering the massive gap Buffy and the Vhrok demons had made in the "government" of the tribes. It was prime territory for Ilneval to take over, as the Shaman was the eldest priest still alive and the elders of the orcs tended towards the worship of Ilneval considering he was the orcish deity of strategy, intelligence and overwhelming numbers. Of those three qualities, the first two old orcs had or they would never have become old orcs, the third they always wished for.

So when they found themselves dependent on Sunnydale for their very survival, they observed the Sunnydale Military closely. It was organized, controlled, and highly skilled. It was something to aspire to and the young warriors were encouraged to go to school and join the military. A year later, one-quarter of the orcish males were in the SSDF and excelled, especially when trained by warriors they could respect. That number was expected to rise as the word of their training spread. Orcs, no matter the tribe, respected battle prowess and those who fought well.

Ranma Saotome was one such warrior. While some orcs fought using the occasional forward kick when weapons locked, Saotome showed them that the body itself was a weapon, something a new order of warriors embraced. The result was an orcish order of warrior monks under the banner of Ilneval: clerics with a martial bent that were utterly dedicated to self-control in battle and the ideal of the body itself as a weapon. The order, which became known as the Sacred Fists of Ilneval, was a fast growing group. The Shaman of Ilneval couldn't be more proud of them.

The Shaman sat down around the central fire of one long hut with the other Elders. Every one of the Elders were scarred, and not just physically. Some had narrowly avoided being called cowards, a death sentence in many orcish tribes, but had survived and now had respect. Others were just so – what was the Sunnydale term? Ah, "badass" – yes, some were just so _badass_that they had just kept going long after they should have keeled over. Two or three were just plain lucky, but luck had its own benefits and wisdom.

"How went your council?" asked Arh-klah, an old male with grizzled features and only one arm (something the aging orc had frequently proved was _not_a weakness and many younger warriors had the scars from his examples). He'd worn a hat for the past thirty years that he had stolen from a corpse on the battlefield and the Shaman questioned whether Arh had removed it at all since.

"War is on the horizon," the Shaman replied.

"War is always on the horizon," scoffed another.

"I think much larger than normal," the Shaman replied. "The Bane worshipers have forsaken their lands. It is believed that they march on Sunnydale."

Another of the old warhawks spat on the ground. Most orc tribes had no love for the human religions, and Bane numbered among the most hated, even considering the actions of certain "good" religions against orcs, as Bane wanted to supplant Grummsh, Ilneval and other orcish deities and use the orcs as fodder to feed his tyranny. All of the Elders had lost relatives to human raiding parties, or "adventurers" as the humans called themselves. Not all the Elders were pleased with the allegiance with Sunnydale, but even they had to agree that Sunnydale Humans were a different breed than the other humans of the North.

"What does this mean for us?" an old female, Gorrrok, asked. She, unlike most others, was a witch. She was a bit different from most others, being not a cleric like most orcish casters, but she was well-respected for her Arts.

"We shall go to war," replied the old war hawk that spat replied. "This is our land now. We shall fight for it."

"This is not our fight," argued another. "We should not fight for the humans!"

"No, this is our fight," the Shaman said. "Think what life was like before? The hunger, the loss? The battles with the demons from Hellgate Keep? The raids that stole our children? The humans that hunted us down like dogs? Now we have strength, something to protect. We have something to live for. The world has changed, and we must change with it."

"Bah!" heads turned towards the last remaining elder of Grumsh, a one eyed, haggard creature. His broken spear was hung about his neck on a strip of leather.

"Humans are nothing more than food! They will turn on us just like they always do! We should kill-"

He was cut off by Arh's fist in his mouth. Orcish political discussions were not exactly peaceful; although compared to previous orcish political debates, this was quite serene and tranquil.

"We live as we live, and now we have tied our people to Sunnydale," growled Arh, pulling the one-eyed elder close by his necklace of fingerbones. "Grumsh is the past. His ways have gained us nothing but death after death."

"Indeed," commented the Shaman. "The humans of Sunnydale have a saying: 'insanity is doing the same thing over and over, each time expecting a different result.' And that is what Grumsh has done: he has made madmen of us all. Ilneval knows that the world must change, and we cannot be the same. Look at us, we have the highest number of successful births in one year in living memory. We have food, enough for us all to not go hungry; we have water, clean without the need for boiling. We are nearly without disease, and our clerics are hardly taxed by the spells needed to cure what little we have left."

"And they treat us like slaves! Like fodder for wars! They are no better than the Baneites!" the Grumsh follower protested.

"_Fool_!" snarled the old witch. "We fight _with_ them, not _for_ them! And what is an orc without war? What are we if we do not fight? You don't see what happens when numbers grow too large and there aren't enemies to fight; _I _have. The tribes fight amongst themselves! They shatter their own tribes and then are swept up by those marauding bands of humans, slaughtered bit by bit. Is that what you want for the Three Tribes?"

"We are the Thousand Fists!"

"FOOL! We are the _last _of the Thousand Fists. The LAST!"

"We have no longer the overwhelming numbers that protected us against the demons of Hellgate Keep," Arh stated. "I will tie my horse to Sunnydale's chariot if it means we live to fight another day."

"As will I," stated the witch.

"As will I," said another.

"As will I!" growled a third.

This was repeated over and over until the only Elder who hadn't agreed was the Grumsh follower himself. He squinted his one eye, glaring at his companions, his rage simmering in his chest, but he kept his temper in check. After all, one did not get to be his age by being stupid.

"You're all fools, but I'd be a greater one to harm the tribe," the Elder said with a hesitant nod.

The Shaman of Ilneval was pleased. He could have ruled the tribe with an iron fist, as so many other leaders had in the past, but that, as it always did, brought ruin to the warriors and then to the women and children. The numbers would shrink and there would be little left. But this way, seeking a consensus, was so much better because it limited the threats. While rule by strength is good for some, rule by the many was good for the tribe.

The next day, every blooded warrior of the tribe enlisted in the SSDF.

* * *

_Extreme Emu Expedition, Day 4_

_Today we had our first close up encounter with the druids and the odd lifeform of the treant, a living, moving intelligent tree. This particular one was an oak, but apparently there are many in the forms of various trees._

_At first the druids were not very welcoming to our presence, but after some explanation, we came to some sort of agreement as to the details of each other's goals. After some time we came to a middle ground._

* * *

The next morning was rather raw in the valleys west of Sunnydale. Above freezing but still not particularly warm, the oppressive wet fog sprung up around the foothills, soaking everything it touched. Luckily, the inside of the tent was enchanted against such an occurrence, but it was little help went they stepped outside. The sky, while still lighter than night, was a dark gray, blocking the sun and making the hills and scrub and brush look rather stark and monochrome in the early light. The mountains to the east looked black and oppressive and seemed to loom higher than normal, stretching their shadows over the small encampment.

"I hate camping," Buffy said, peeling her shirt away from her shoulder. "Ugh, I really hate camping."

"This is nothing," the ecologist said. "Wait until you're in a monsoon with only a small piece of plastic keeping you in a semblance of dry. It pours so hard that it bounced up off the ground so it's raining from above and below. That was wet. Yeah, you might be damp here today, but it could always be worse."

"Just because it can be worse, doesn't make this any less sucky," Amy argued with a shiver. "I'm going to spend the entire afternoon next to the heating element in the tent."

"Ditto," said Buffy.

Vierna, having lived all her life until recently in a city without weather, just glowered at them all. She, more than any of them, including those who grew up in Southern California, was unprepared for this. She had only brought a few of her Sunnydale style clothes and some of her more traditional Menzoberranzan outfits. Neither were any good for a day like they had.

Xander was on the other end of the spectrum. He had memories of being much worse off, having chosen to sleep on the lawn instead of dealing with his alcoholic parents. He had brought just about everything he needed along with him. So he was decked out in a rain suit that had withstood many types of weather, having been procured from the Uncle Rory Collection of fine clothing and design (always never the height of fashion). It was rubber with vents and he wore an oiled shirt and wool pants underneath. To top it all off, he'd managed to get his pith helmet on top of it and that kept his head dry. The only problem was that he had forgotten to disconnect the hood and it collected a bit of water as time went on, occasionally dribbling down the back of his neck.

The ecologist, however, had decided on a fishing vest, a heavy oiled leather coat, waders and a big hat. She did notice that the fish were jumping in several of the ponds made from shifting sediment. More than a few of these ponds were formed in ages past by glaciers, and so had no inlet or outlet, depending entirely on groundwater. The recent erosion had connected several of them, and a few fish had taken up residence. But they weren't there for fishing, they were there to find the emus that had vanished the day before.

"Okay, let's look around for a mob of emus," she said. "From what I read before this, they aren't too picky about wet or dry, at least they weren't on farms. I don't know about now."

"Or we could deal with the guys in green robes looking down at us," Xander said, looking behind them. Turning, the women saw the humanoid tree glaring down on them with its hands on its hips, the green robed druids in a semicircle in front of it. "Hi there green guys!"

They were not amused.

Buffy squinted as she looked up at the treeperson. "Did you know your leaves make you look like you've got a giant afro?"

The druids looked over Team Emu with dispassionate eyes until they landed on Vierna, and their eyes grew cold. For most of the Realms, the fact that they traveled with a dark elf was proof enough of their guilt. Vierna tensed under their gaze, her hand going for her flail at her hip. Xander stood at attention, his hand moving towards his back. Amy's hands moved towards the pouch of herbs she wore on her belt. Buffy just stood akimbo, gazing defiantly at the taller people. The ecologist palmed her face and shook her head.

"Why oh why did we have to have a first contact on this expedition?" she bemoaned. Shaking her head, the ecologist stepped in front of her team and held out a hand. "Hello, we're Team Emu from Sunnydale. We're here to look at the ecological impact of Sunnydale's arrival on the surrounding terrain."

The druids didn't say anything but looked towards the tree for assistance. In a low gravelly voice it said something that had the head green guy nod. She pulled her hood off, revealing almond shaped eyes and slightly pointed ears.

"I am Shaiyana, Druid of Silvanost," she said stepping forward, holding out a hand like the ecologist had done, but made no move to shake hands. The ecologist felt silly at not remembering that it was not a local custom and blushed as she slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans. The druid cocked her head. "What are these emus you speak of?"

"They are the big birds that run around in mobs," Vierna said, relaxing her stance as she noticed the druids on the high ground sat down, setting their staves across their knees. "They escaped from farms, and we're trying to figure out if they're going to eat everything in sight."

"I did not speak to _you_," Shaiyana snapped, her eyes hard as diamonds. The half-elf's dislike of drow was rather obvious. Vierna just rolled her eyes and looked away, pretending that neither of them said anything.

"Well, what she's talking about is true," the ecologist said. "We can't stop the impact, but we can check how best to solve the problem."

"It seems we have a task in common," Shaiyana commented, cocking her head to the side before sitting down crosslegged. The ecologist did the same and they both started talking in terms of ecology and druidry and quickly lost the rest of Team Emu. Seeing as it was obviously going to be a while, Amy decided it was time to set up camp and rolled out the tent. Vierna actually helped out since she was eager to escape the oppressive sunlight. Slipping inside, Team Emu started making lunch.

* * *

"So what do we know right now," Joyce asked, leaning back in her chair as she faced her advisors and cabinet. She turned to the former Deputy Mayor and motioned him towards the white board. "Allan, if you would take notes?"

"Of course, Madame President," he said with a slightly smug look. She flashed him a glare but turned back to General Hennessey.

"One, Fzoul has taken his faction from Zhentil Keep," the general said.

"Two, he has an unknown number of forces remaining both in the Keep and in the other Zhent strongholds," Kaanyr Vhok put in. "Three, he has stated on frequent occasions his dislike of Sunnydale and has encouraged its destruction. Four, he is a very dangerous man who follows a very dangerous god. Five, he has three agents in Sunnydale, only one is actually a Zhent, the other two having slipped in separately."

People turned to look at the cambion with amazement. He adopted a smug smirk and crossed his arms loosely.

"I am _very _good at my job," he replied with no ounce of modesty. "I'm hoping to coordinate with others to feed disinformation or manipulate them into doing our bidding."

"I have some intelligence specialists that should help," General Hennessey suggested.

"Give me their names and I'll meet with them," Kaanyr replied. "I don't actually have an office so much as a lair." He turned to Joyce, "I also need some office training for my assistants. While very capable, they have no idea how to use computers and the like, although they are very quick studies."

"Okay, I'll have Allan take you through the bureaucracy primer we've set up," Joyce said. "After all, a government falls apart without the red tape." She turned to the others. "Any possibility we could get all the data our allies have on Fzoul?"

"I don't see why not," the Silverymoon ambassador said with a glance at his compatriots.

"And any information the Harpers have on him," Joyce continued, looking at Peris.

"I'm afraid that I'm on the other end of the information chain," Peris explained. "I couldn't be of much help in this except for funneling information from the Zhents. But I can inquire with Lord Manshoon about his resources."

"Good, we need all the information we can get," Joyce said.

"You're certainly taking to this well," Allan Finch said with a bemused grin. Joyce shrugged.

"I have no idea if I'm doing it right, but I've watched a lot of spy movies," she admitted. She turned to Giles. "Rupert, can you try to close in the borders a bit more, but without looking like you are? Also if you have some people you can lend to Mr. Vhok for his operations, I'd appreciate it."

"I have a few lesser known agents that might work, especially good at blending in, a talent for languages," Giles nodded, jotting down a note on his pad. Giles was one of the remaining people who still refused to use a computer, even with the distinct lack of new paper being produced. He was still unable to type at any reasonable rate, something that many people had tried to change over the years, but the solution they had come up with was a special pad of paper that would translate information to another where it would be read and scanned into a computer, creating a perfect record of everything written on it. It was something that "the Trio" had come up with in R&D and were working to develop more of them. They were damn lucky that they had managed to get magic and technology working together, because otherwise Giles wouldn't have been able to do his job.

Joyce made a few more suggestions and dismissed them. She leaned back in her chair worrying about the coming war and worrying about her daughter that she herself had sent out into what could easily turn into a war zone in the very near future.

* * *

"Finally," the ecologist said with a satisfied smile. She stepped into the tent with a big grin. "First contact, no combat, how 'bout that?"

The rest of Team Emu looked up with incomprehension from stuffing their faces.

"Druids don't like what happened to the environment; ecologists don't like what happened to the environment; _Fusion_!; Druids and ecologists team up to form super-environmental-hippie-science-team," she said with odd pauses. Her teammates nodded in understanding.

"So what next?" Xander asked.

"Next we continue on the emu hunt," the ecologist explained, "while the druids continue their restoration work. They're doing in days what would take us years. Magic is pretty cool."

"Yes," Amy said with a grin, "yes it is."

"But it's getting late, so why don't we rest up and get started early in the morning?" the scientist suggested.

"You just want to go fishing for a few hours," Buffy accused.

"I just want to go fishing for a few hours," the scientist agreed. She had already put her rod together before any of the others had even noticed. "Maybe if we're lucky, I can get something tasty for dinner. Got my whistle in case of problems." She flashed them a smile and walked outside, trudging up the newly grassed and planted hill to the nearest large stream where she had seen jumping fish the day before. She snaked her line through the air, the flies just barely touching the surface of the water and in trial and error, she found where the fish were hiding. Unfortunately for her, they weren't very big fish, but fortunately for her, she was an experienced fisherman and so was well skilled in the talents of exaggeration. The big one always got away.

One of her biggest issues was her inability to shift her lifestyle towards living in Faerun, something that many Sunnydalers had trouble with. You would think that a town that had a large vampire population would at least have some kind of instinctual knowledge of Apex predators, but when it came to the various human eating critters, she, like many other Sunnydalers, was quite ignorant. Of those rules two of the most important are that you never go out alone, and you never stay out after dark. So the woman never thought anything was wrong as she went back with the stars twinkling overhead and the wind whipping through the druid grown grasses.

She was nearly back to camp when she heard a noise down over the next hill. The wind was going in the other direction, so she wasn't sure what she heard until she climbed up the slick grassy slope to see a team of men in black armor standing over the corpses of some of the druids they spoke with earlier. She let out a little scream, catching their attention before scrambling down the hill in the direction of the tent. She nearly tumbled down the hill, blowing on her whistle in the hopes of giving warning. The rest of Team Emu, lead by Buffy were out of the tent with weapons ready, but they were only in time to see the large portion of the ecologist's body turn to dust. All that was left were her fishing hat, her tackle box, and her boots (feet still inside) as well as a few scraps of cloth that fluttered away in the wind.

They froze motionless for a long moment, not hearing the clamor of armored men and creatures surround them until it was too late. Xander looked at the pile of gear and sighed pitifully.

"I just realized we never knew her name," he said, but the rest of his team weren't paying attention to him. Walking with the calm pace of a man who knew he was in control, a tall man with wavy blond hair, a van Dyke style beard and plate armor trod down the hill. His plate armor was dark gray, not quite black, but on the breastplate there was a black hand clenched into a fist around some dark energy that tried, but failed, to escape its grasp. His long arrogant stride was justified by the fifteen crossbowmen positioned on either side of him.

Buffy drew her sword, but almost as soon as she did so, the strength of the slayer seemed to cringe away, leaving the stout blade feeling many times heavier than normal.

"Ah, Miss Summers," the man said in a tone of false-cheer, pulling off a gauntlet to scratch his beard. "Your formidable strength quite nearly made you a legend," he said in a tone that showed a great deal of arrogance. He slipped on his gauntlet, his eyes watching his hands as he continued to monologue. "How unfortunate for you that your people did not keep the origin of it a state secret. After that it was a simple task to eliminate you as an obstacle to My Lord Bane's plans. You see, Sunnydale is an affront to My Lord Bane. Your lack of organization, your inability to hold onto control is an embarrassment. You go by the will of the people who are inevitably-" he was cut off by Xander pulling out a pistol and firing several shots. The bullets seemed to curved around him as if orbiting some invisible sphere around him. The man smiled. It would have made him handsome if it were not so cruel. "-Inevitably flawed. My Lord Bane also resents your interference in His goals. You see, Sunnydale's appearance broke up the long term goals of the Zhentarim, an organization which I fully intended to wrest control over from that fool Manshoon. I would have honed it into an army of Bane."

"And My Lord Bane shall have my army, the greatest army in the history of Faerun, even if I must grind Sunnydale to the ground and salt the earth to get it," the man continued in his conversational tone. He dropped his hand back down to his side. "When my agents reported that you had left the city, I was surprised to see the makeup." He glanced at Buffy, who was looking more exhausted than anyone had seen her, she looked worse than when the Master killed her or when she was in the hospital with the flu. "You, Miss Summers, the Slayer, out on a walk assigned by your darling mother. She should really know that princesses such as yourself are worth their weight in gold. One of your reputation would earn a ransom in platinum." He turned to look at Amy Madison who looked equal parts angry, worried and confused. "You, Miss Madison, considered something of a magical prodigy, if only overshadowed by your friend Willow. As much as I might find it entertaining breaking you until you could honestly swear Bane is your Lord, I haven't the time. Perhaps later." She shivered in fear at his bemused tone, but his gaze had already continued to the next person in line. Vierna clutched her mace as she glared back at the man. "Vierna Do'Urden, the twice abandoned cleric. My Lord Bane hears things, and your antics in service to Lloth are such entertainment, as well as the punishment she has declared on your head. Any drow who delivers you to the Spider Queen will have Her favor. Judging by what has been said, that Favor might last for a very long time. The only one she wants more is the Baenre wizard." He glanced briefly at the remnants of the ecologist. "And one absolutely unremarkable _scientist_." He said the word like it was something to be pitied, an object of scorn.

"And then there's little ole me," Xander warned even as he reloaded his pistol behind his back.

"Yes, _you_," the man agreed with unnatural interest.

"How'd you do it?" Buffy asked. "How'd you take my strength?"

"My dear, we didn't take it, merely suppressed it for the time being while we completed our task," the man replied. He waved his hand and three of his crossbowmen stepped aside and knelt in front of their fellows. Taking their place was an abomination, an aberrant shape that shouldn't exist. It hovered several feet above the floor, its body filled by one giant eye and a mouth of teeth that stretched from side to side. Ten stalks protruded from its spherical body that twitched and glanced around. Its central eye was staring directly at Buffy. "Allow me to introduce my associate. While we differ greatly on ideological terms, our business relationship is more healthy than ever."

"What-?" Amy asked in horror at the creature. Xander prepared to shoot it, but an eyestalk turned towards him and as it rose up to meet him, the ground dissolved into dust. Fzoul Chembryl shot a glare at the creature and the disintegration ceased, mere inches from Xander's feet.

"_What_ is _that_?" Buffy hissed.

"They are called many things," Vierna said, fear that shook her to her very core replacing the normal arrogance she displayed. "Most commonly as Beholder, or Eye Tyrant." She gulped nervously. "Even Matron Baenre feared and respected their power."

Xander glared up at the Chosen of Bane and cracked his knuckles. "I won't let you take Buffy."

To everyone's surprise, the cleric burst into laughter. "No, Alexander, so-called Protector of Man, I am _not_ here for Miss Summers," he said. "I am here for _you_."

* * *

_Thanks be to Janessa Ravenwood for all her help. Please don't kill me! I'll get it out faster, I promise!_

_And also thanks to everyone whose suggestions I've used. More are always welcome._


	47. Dealing with Deities

.

**Every Silver Lining Has Its Cloud**

A Buffy and Forgotten Realms Story by DireSquirrel

Chapter 29:

_Dealing with Deities_

* * *

"So, what do we owe you," Angel asked the gnomish tinkerer as they flew over the bustling metropolis of Waterdeep. The Lantanese spelljammer was required to land in sea and sail into the harbor, as Waterdeep didn't allow for landing craft in the city limits.

"The stories have paid for a lot thus far, but…" she trailed off, her pink hair seemingly shaking as she pondered the possibilities. "I do feel I might need something a little more tangible that I can bring back. A gadget perhaps?"

"Unfortunately, we didn't bring anything like that," Angel said. "Anything like that would quickly run out of power, so it would just be a hunk of junk." He looked at the other two vampires for help. Spike shrugged helplessly, and Dru just kept talking about the moon serving drinks. Whatever that meant. Angel looked back at the gnome. "Sorry, can't think of anything else."

"Mass production," Oz said quickly in his particularly succinct fashion. Angel looked at him like he was crazy. Oz nodded sagely. "Mass production."

"That's…actually a really good idea," Angel said. The gnomish woman looked at him confused. "It's more of a concept than a gift. Basically, you get a whole bunch of workers. Each installs their own part into something before passing it down the line. Production goes up, and things can be built in bigger numbers. Don't know if it's possible for magic stuff."

"Production line," Oz said with an affirming nod. Angel gave him a look. "This is my helpful voice."

"And yet it looks so much like your normal voice," Angel said.

"Xander used that line before," Oz replied.

"Someone hand me a stake." Angel said. It was Oz's turn to give a strange look. Angel shook his head. "If I'm using the same lines as Xander I'd better kill myself before I start dressing like him."

"You could use some more color," Oz argued.

They then fell into an in-depth discussion about how 20th century factories worked. Sadly, this payment would be nearly useless, as, well, thanks to a certain Blackcloak, Lantan already _had_ mass production. That done, they went on to discuss what Sunnydale would want long term.

"Spelljammers," the entire Sunnydale 4 said in unison. Even Dru knew the budding nation would jump at the chance.

"Even if they're derelicts with no atmosphere, or magic or whatever," Angel said. "Just bring them and Sunnydale will give you something in return. Raw materials are wanted, needed even. Any old scraps of wood, metal and the like."

"You want our refuse?"

"No, just some of it. Glass and metals, even if they're broken," Oz said. "Beats making new ones."

"What about weapons?"

Oz shook his head. "Niche market. Not many people would buy them – Buffy, Giles, Drizzt, the SCA and the occasional evil cult, but for the most part, no."

"Unless you learn how to make guns," Angel pointed out.

"Oh boy, Slayer'd be real pleased you teachin' the locals how to make bloody guns," Spike said with a sarcastic grin. Angel just glowered back.

"I do know of a few derelicts," Falan said. "Be a bit difficult to get them all the way to Sunnydale, though."

"I don't know of anything else that would work," Angel said.

"Well, you've told me enough," Falan said. She handed Oz (who was seen as the responsible one) an amulet. "That can contact me if you need some help. I won't answer if I'm busy."

"Magical walkie-talkie. Awesome," Oz said. "We'll call."

"Please do," she said a moment before she wandered back to her Spelljammer. The Sunnydale Quartet looked about at the towers and streets of Waterdeep.

"Stop, thief!" a guard called out. Spike turned to see a short fellow running ahead of a pair of well armored guards. The bleached vampire shot his arm out and clotheslined the runner, with his elbow hitting the small person's throat. Pain seared through Spike's brand and the vampire pitched forward, his hands clawing at the brand as he bit off the scream that threatened to fly from his throat.

"Bloody thief's an innocent," he snarled, clutching the brand as if his hand could stop the burning pain. His entire body shivered in pain.

"And yet he's being chased by the guards," Angel said.

"You've got an impeccable grasp of the obvious," the short fellow said, clutching his wounded neck. "Alas, they will not see it that way."

By this time the guards had approached, swords drawn, looking more like they were out for blood than justice or serving the peace. The little fellow turned to them. "I can assure you, good sirs and lady, I am purely innocent of the allegations put against me. Give me but a minute and I can prove such. There is no need to carry such steel."

"Yeah right, damn thief," snarled the one on the left. He resembled a Mickey Rourke that had let himself go. "Like I'd believe a halfling's word!"

"So nice to know racism is so universal," Oz said in his sarcastic tone. It was remarkably like his normal tone and no one knew that he was joking. Angel and the halfling gave him a look. He shrugged. "That was my sarcastic voice."

"Thank you for explaining," was the halfling's tired response. "I can assure you, my dear fellows, that I am but a simple cleric, passing through upon this late hour."

Angel turned to the guards.

"Look," he said placatingly. "He said he didn't do it."

"Then why'd he run?" demanded one of the guards.

"I'd run if someone was chasing me with naked steel," Oz put in.

"Huh," said one of the guards with a ponderous look. "I never thought of it that way."

"Hey! Keep your head in the game," the other one said.

"Relax, man," the pondering guard said.

"Woman, actually," said the other guard, the one that looked like a Mickey Rourke that had let himself go. Oz, Angel, Spike and the ponderous guard looked at him/her curiously. "Let's just say you shouldn't put on any girdles until you have a wizard look at them, even if they're a perfect fit."

Drusilla and the cleric nodded sagely in agreement while the four others still looked confused.

"Well, good sir and lady, while I may be a halfling, I can assure you that I am most certainly not a thief," the short shoeless cleric replied. "However, I can prove my innocence if you would only give me a chance. And indeed, I would have done so had you not been chasing me with naked steel."

"And what might this be?" inquired the ponderous guard. The cleric held up his holy symbol.

"This is also a key to that mausoleum, but only for those of my order," he replied. "If you were to take me to the temple, the high priest will vouch for me."

The two guards looked skeptical. Spike snorted and rolled his eyes.

"There's no bloody reason to start chasing the squirt again," the vampire grumbled. "Hurts you none to go have a chat."

"Fine," said the surly involuntary transsexual. "But if you lie, this won't end well."

"I speak the truth," the cleric replied with all honestly. He turned to the Sunnydalers and smiled, giving them a slight bow. "Go to Selûne's Smile. And, goddess willing, you will find all your answers you seek."

And with that he turned and started walking between the two human guards.

The three vampires and werewolf stared after the trio with bemused and confused looks on their faces.

"Magical spaceships, hobbit priests, gender-bending belts," Spike said as he fumbled for his last cigarette. He didn't light it, just tucked it into the corner of his mouth. "This world is bloody fucking nuts."

Oz nodded in silent agreement.

"I want a beer," the blond vampire snarled as he cracked his neck.

"Root beer," Oz said for himself.

"That stuff will give you cancer," Angel pointed out.

"So you've said," Oz replied, having not changed his mind.

* * *

"What do you mean you're after me?" Xander asked, taking a half step with one foot so he created a smaller target to the archers. He saw Vierna and Amy step back to match him, a ball of flames already growing in Amy's palm.

"The time for talk has ended," Fzoul replied, motioning for his men to go forward. Crossbows were up and they took a step forward as one. The blond man glanced at Buffy who glared back, though she was still weighted down by the weight of her weapons. It was like everything had suddenly gained twenty pounds. She could even feel the weight of her clothing. She glanced up at the creature that gazed upon her with its baleful eyes and pulled her arms underneath her. She straightened her arms underneath her as if practicing push-ups and pulled her legs forward, underneath her body.

Xander felt tired, as if sleep was needed immediately. Amy, spotting the opposing mage, waved her hand and the robed individual burst into flames, screaming in horror. Fzoul raised an eyebrow and waved a hand, canceling the magical effect, but made no other move. The Baneite mage snarled in pain as he stood up. He snarled out a cursed phrase and green arrows flew towards the still standing trio.

"Down!" Vierna snarled, ducking under the magical projectiles which splattered on the side of the still upright tent, sizzling, but otherwise unable to damage the enchanted fabric. The former cleric grabbed her amulet around her neck and swore a command phrase. Her clothing shifted into a black metallic suit of form fitting armor as she charged the mage, narrowly dodging the bolts flying from crossbows. One hit her in the shoulder, but shattered harmlessly against her enchanted elven chain.

Xander specifically stood in front of Amy as she chanted a prayer to Hecate, and fired off three rounds at the eye tyrant staring down Buffy. It roared in rage as the bullets pierced its tough hide, forcing it to wince. All at once, Buffy's strength returned.

She jumped, her sword back in her hand as the Beholder opened its central and peripheral eyes, only to realize that she was no longer cowering before it. One of the smaller eyes caught sight of her as she reached the peak of her jump and had just powered up its disintegration ray when the sword sliced right through the eye ball and stalk. The magical ray had barely enough time to send her already dirty clothes to tatters that barely clung to her body. A sliver off her arm oozed blood from where the skin had been destroyed with the shirt. The beholder howled in rage and pain, now bleeding and down one eye. It spun around as Buffy went in for another strike. The anti-magic field failed to catch her off guard this time and she let the sword fly from her hand, slicing off another eye.

"I really liked that shirt!" Buffy snarled, feeling somehow less weak than before, though the eye was still trained on her. She reached behind her to the small of her back and pulled out a familiar sharpened stick.

An archer took the moment to aim at her. Buffy barely flinched as she flicked it off course with a simple gesture. The crossbow bolt flew abruptly upwards before arching behind the Slayer, piercing a swordsman sneaking up behind her in the collar bone. She punched backwards over her shoulder, sending the Baneite sprawling. Distractions disrupted, Buffy charged the offending abominable aberration, Mr. Pointy firmly in her grasp.

Xander, meanwhile, was on his last clip. Amy was still a half step behind him, using his body as a shield as she worked her magic, allowing it to form a shield over the both of them. Xander's pistol hadn't been a series of one-hit kills, but five of the archers were writhing on the ground, wounds seeping with blood, their black leather armor useless against the firearm. Amy stepped out from behind Xander and fired a blast of fire that hit the ground and sprung up as a wall of fire, cutting off the charge of the rest of the swordsmen.

Fzoul frowned as he saw his crack troops decimated by a bunch of children and an abandoned cleric. The blond Chosen of Bane said a prayer to his patron deity and bestowed a mighty curse upon Xander as the boy was firing off shots at his men. He smiled darkly as the curse made the boy fumble as the recoil from the gun made the weapon fly from his hands. The Baneite leaned his head back as he stood before them, calling on Bane's Righteous Might to smite his foes. His limbs magically enhanced with strength, Fzoul Chembryl sent one fist flying at the boy, sending him sprawling to the ground. Almost without thought, he countered Amy's next spell with one of his own, and kicked the boy who now knelt before him with enough force to lift him off the ground. Xander gasped as the man's foot impacted his solar plexus, suddenly finding it difficult to even gather the strength to take another breath. Amy flew backwards as the back of Fzoul's fist impacted her face, the spiked gauntlet leaving nasty red tears across her skin.

Vierna, having just crushed her first few opponents with her mighty flail, turned back towards her teammates to find them not so well off. As Amy flew back from Fzoul's blow, the dark elven maiden charged forward, her flail swinging in a circle. She saw an opening as the Chosen of Bane bent down to heft Xander up from the ground and hit the cleric in the back of the knees, one of the least well protected spots due to the joints. She spun around, pulled a dagger out of her belt and slashed out at the man's neck which was now exposed. She should have hit, he was wide open, but the blade skittered across his neck as if it were armored instead of flesh. Fzoul turned his head and glared at her, his blue eyes seeming to glow with rage and indignation.

Vierna was good at indignation. Hell, she was _raised_ on it as a noble daughter of Menzoberranzan. Indignation and superiority were bread and butter to her for years, decades even. But she had spent the last few months with people who used anything to win and had learned one lesson quite well: the greater the pride, the easier it was to use it against them. She spat into his glaring eyes before pulling up her flail in both hands to smash right into his head. The Chosen of Bane went down, but crossbow bolts narrow missed Vierna's ear, preventing her from following up on her attack. She looked up and saw Buffy doing surprisingly well against the beholder.

Buffy herself didn't think she was doing well at all. The ugly eye-thing had managed to dodge, barely, her attacks at its central eye, leaving gashes from Mr. Pointy on the eyelid, near each side and along the toothy maw below the huge orb. She kicked it as it blinked, her strength returning for just a second, allowing her to kick a few more teeth out. Her strength was noticeably more improved as the anti-magic field blinked on and off. Each time she dodged out of the way, or forced it to protect its eye, her strength was less weakened the next time its focus returned to her.

One of the eyestalks turned towards her and she dove down, out of the way, rolling along the ground, only to come up on one knee, Mr. Pointy now in her off hand, and her sword firmly returned to her grasp. That was when she realized that she had placed herself in the perfect crossfire between the archers and the beholder. The eye tyrant turned towards her once more and she jumped, allowing the crossbow bolt aimed at her back to fly beneath her. The bolt, magically ensorcelled by the mage into a flaming projectile, flew directly into the beholder's central eye just before it opened once more. The aberrant abomination screamed in pain as its massive orb was blinded; sickly, inhuman blood gushing from the wound. Buffy landed on her feet like a cat, tossing Mr. Pointy into the air, before springing up again, pulling the flaming bolt out of the eye and tossing it backwards, catching an archer in the throat. She caught Mr. Pointy just as she jammed the sword into the beholder. It screamed once more, shuddering in death throws as she impaled it onto the ground. She reversed her grip on the sword and allowed the aberration to slide off, its corpse hitting the ground as it never had in life.

Buffy turned on the archers that were still taking potshots at them. Her face was a mask of rage as she ran forward, knocking arrows and bolts out of the air with sword and fist almost as if they were stationary targets. Her arm arched and the blade dug deep into an archer's chest. His companions, seeing this, broke as one, running backwards, occasionally tripping over their own feet as they watched the blood-soaked Slayer striding towards them. She dispatched one, then another before turning back to where Fzoul was positively trouncing her companions.

Vierna was sent sprawling backwards by Fzoul's profanely empowered fist. The cleric's power trailed after the blow as unholy dark energy seemed to seep out of the wounds that now decorated his face by Vierna's enchanted flail. With his other hand he grabbed a struggling Xander by the neck and tossed him after the fallen dark elf. He turned on Amy, who was struggling to regain her footing.

"You will serve BANE!" he snarled as he called on the tyrannical power of his Patron. Amy screamed as she felt her mind dominated by Bane's power. It seeped through the skin, flew into her lungs with each panting breath she took. It surrounded her and filled her until there was only Bane's will through his mortal servitor. She looked upon Fzoul Chembryl and waited for instructions. He nodded in Buffy's direction. "Kill her."

Resistance was futile.

Amy turned her magics on the Slayer who had been her friend, teammate and partner. For the first time since she had truly come into her power she called not on Hecate, the Olympian goddess of magic, crossroads and the moon, but upon Bane. The Lord of Tyranny. The Black Hand. Lord of Darkness. She begged for his gift like a toddler begging for a sweet.

And Bane answered, filling her with power.

_His_ power.

Fzoul glanced around and realized he was nearly alone, his swords men run off by the witch's spells and his archers by the Slayer's might.

"Enough! I tire of this pointless combat," he growled out as he mentally cursed his minions' incompetence. He reached down with one bloodied gauntlet and grabbed Xander by the scruff of the neck, simultaneously checking to make sure he was still alive. To ensure his power was complete, the Chosen Cleric spoke to Bane and Bane replied, as spell after spell from Amy set Buffy running to escape. A portal opened before the favored cleric of the Lord of Darkness. With one last glance to make sure his opponents were occupied, he dragged Xander's unconscious body through the Gate Spell, allowing the connection to collapse behind him.

"Amy! What happened to you?" Buffy demanded as she dodged another ball of dark power thrown her way. It impacted with the ground not far from where she had last stood.

"I SERVE BANE NOW!" The enchanted witch declared as she called upon another sphere of black flames. But before she could let it fly, Vierna suddenly appeared before her. The dark elven maiden pulled her fist back and punched the witch in the stomach with all her might, forcing the spellcaster to forget the words of her next spell. The energy she had been gathered exploded, searing Amy's hand.

"What are you doing?!" Buffy demanded as Vierna shoved her steel covered hand into the witch's mouth to keep her from speaking.

"Fzoul cast a spell on her, dominating her will," Vierna replied, hauling the witch to her feet without removing her hand from the girl's mouth. The was a grinding sound as Amy tried to bite the elf's finger's off to no avail.

"How do you know that?" Buffy demanded, still unwilling to trust Drizzt's sister.

The dark elf stared at her with equal parts aggravation and determination.

"I know these spells especially well," Vierna said. "They were used quite commonly in Menzoberranzan. They were a show of dominance, of power, even of social status. Oh _gross_! She's _licking_ me!"

"Well, you're the one who stuck your fingers in her mouth," Buffy said unsympathetically. Vierna threw her an indignant glare.

"She'll be an enemy for _days_ at the very least, months if I'm right about Fzoul's power and experience, you bimbastic _human_," Vierna snarled as she stomped on Amy's toe to distract her from attempting to escape.

"What the hell does 'bimbastic' mean?" Buffy snarled.

"Bimbastic: to act in the manner of a bimbo," Vierna hissed as she dragged the witch kicking and screaming into the tent.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" Buffy said. The former priestess glared at the Slayer.

"Go make yourself useful and go search the bodies for some clue as to where the asshole Baneite took the _male_!" Vierna commanded, shutting the tent flap behind her with a snap. Buffy, standing outside, clenched her fists and howled in rage, grief and pain. She ran up and gave the beholder corpse a kick worthy of any soccer champ. The many eyed ball flew up, beholder juices glistening in the light of the newly risen moon, and trailed off into the distance before finally vanishing behind a grassy gnoll. The camouflaged gnoll ranger, seeing the tiny girl punt a beholder, decided there was safer prey in other places. Oblivious to the observer, the blonde Slayer screamed again; a wordless, shrill sound that never the less perfectly conveyed her meaning and emotion.

She made her way over to the lines of corpses and found one still moving. The archer hadn't been as severely wounded as he had pretended and allowed his fellows to think him dead. He rolled a corpse off his pinned body only to look up into the hazel eyes of a very, very displeased Buffy Summers. He couldn't understand her words, but knew they promised pain. He tried to crab walk backwards, but was stopped by a fist to the face which broke his jaw.

Buffy dragged the silent and now unconscious prisoner into the tent. Amy was gagged and tied to the central pole of the tent with her hands well above her head. She had been stripped except for her underwear and glared angrily at Buffy, obviously snarling something at her through the gag.

"What did you do to her!" Buffy demanded of the dark elf.

"We couldn't trust that she wouldn't have some additional spell components for incantations that didn't require words, so I removed the possibility," Vierna explained dismissively. She raised one alabaster eyebrow at the man Buffy dragged behind her. "You broke his _jaw_?"

"Yeah," Buffy said, dropping the unconscious male on the ground.

"The entire point of taking prisoners is so they can talk! He's useless to us, you-"

Buffy's glare stopped her rant in mid-insult.

"Stop," Buffy commanded. "Right now I don't fucking care. Shove a healing potion down his throat, or don't, I don't care."

She turned and stomped out the tent flap and into the crisp early evening air. She went back to the battlefield and did something she never thought she'd do again: stripped the corpses. Buffy had to admit that, after her mistakes with the DuLac cross and similar events, evidence was needed to get a complete picture. She undid clasps, belts and buttons. She searched mouths for hidden poisons and weapons with a disgusted look. She piled up the dead bodies away from the tent and the gear in a second pile. They were quite large and she grumbled at the thought of having to touch them again. It wasn't for lack of experience with dead bodies, but more of just aggravation piled upon aggravation. She stomped back into the tent and grabbed the bags containing their food supplies. Angrily, she turned one of the bags of holding inside out, dumping it into the second before stomping out again, absently watching as Vierna hogtied and gagged Amy and their other prisoner. Outside once more, she stuffed body after body into the bag of holding, only then realizing that if she was going to do that, she hadn't needed to strip them in the first place.

Infuriated by her mistake, she screamed in rage, pain and aggravation, the sound echoing off the hills and mountains. Mobs of emus started at the sound, wargs cowered in fear, traders making the dangerous way through Turnstone Pass shivered and cowered closer together around camp fires, all hoping that the owner of the voice wasn't after them.

The gnoll ranger shivered at the noise. He hadn't believed the rumors about the new human nation, but he was starting to think there was something to them. Well, he'd heard that Icewind Dale was nice this time of year.

* * *

Far from the High Temple of Bane, the spires of Waterdeep, and the airships of Halruaa, there was another fortress of might and magic. Ancient beyond living memory of most creatures native to Faerûn, the elaborate caverns of the eastern Nether Mountains were not created by the most recent inhabitants. Indeed, they were thousands of years older than even the Ancient Wrym who held court in the ancient fortress of Dragondoom. For over a thousand years the Morueme Clan of blue dragons terrorized the eastern reaches of the Nether Mountains. Led by the patriarch Nahaunglaroth, the blue dragons had feasted on any being unfortunate enough to be caught in the open, be they beast, animal or mortal. Their servants, an ancient clan of hobgoblins, tall, intelligent and ruthless goblinoids, existed almost civilized in a small town at the base of the mountain. For nearly an era, the Blood of Morueme had ruled the skies and the hobgoblins of Doomspire served their every whim.

Unlike many other hobgoblin tribes, those of Doomspire knew little of the outside world. They were not near any village or city, nor situated on a common trading route, nor were they as nomadic as most goblinoids or orc-kin, so the only "peaceful" outside contact was with the orc tribes that occasionally traded with the village. Cities and the like were legends spread by the human slaves brought by those same orcs.

The slaves had tilled the ground, built the houses while the hobgoblins tended the rothé. So it had been generation after generation. For over a thousand years, the hobgoblins of Doomspire had served the great azure wryms. It was said that the sun set, the sun rose, and the Blood of Moruene were fed. Outside was pointless, as it had nothing to do with serving the Blood. The clan even began worshiping the dragons as something more than the already great beasts they were. As the centuries passed, the traditional goblin deities prayers were spoken less and less until the religious ceremonies were little more than lip-service. There had not been a true cleric or shaman in Doomspire for generations. All that changed with the coming of Sunnydale.

The explosive force of the city's arrival reached to the east as well as the more populated west of the Silver Marches. The Blue Dragons, well protected by the peaks and ridges, felt the magical power, but suffered no initial ill effects and returned to their magical studies and feasts. Those would be felt later. Doomspire began to feel the effects as game became sparse and their draconic masters' bellies rumbled. The herds of rothé, tended for centuries, panicked and spread out. Passes were choked with rubble shaken loose by Sunnydale's arrival. Valleys filled with stagnant water, and disease ran rampant.

It was not long before the Blood of Morueme became unsettled by the diminishing frequency of the tribute they had been so long accustomed to. As many had done in the past, the masters put the blame on the servants and demanded a different kind of sacrifice when no other was available. Doomspire first gave slaves, and at first only the weak or infirm. Game did not increase or return to familiar paths, and so the least skilled of the slaves were next to go. When things still did not improve, so went the rest of the human slaves down draconic gullets. Then went the ogres and Dire Wolves. As the months passed, the expendable dwindled and vanished, and Doomspire had no option but to give up their own kin. The population went from over six hundred before Sunnydale's arrival, to five hundred, to four hundred and continued until they were barely half their original number.

Only then did the Blood of Morueme realize that the fault did not lie with their servants, but was of other origins. Calling upon magics best left forgotten, delving into the hidden secrets of the universe, the dragon clan understood the events of Sunnydale's arrival. Their magics explained the history of Acathla and of other hidden secrets of the Hellmouth. Being arcanely inspired, covetous, and possessing more than a little draconic arrogance, Nahaunglaroth and kin left the lair of Morueme's Cave and attacked the city.

They did not return to Dragondoom.

Unused to being without masters, but feeling relief at the lack of sacrificial demands, the hobgoblins of Doomspire used the subsequent months to expand and regroup. Rothé, sheep and goats, domesticated, wild and feral, were gathered back into herds along the mountain sides. Terraces were rebuilt and new crops planted. The possessions of the dead were spread out among the living, and their domiciles used for animal husbandry. Roads were built to travel passes clogged with debris, utilizing the ancient hobgoblin traditions of stonework and mining. Homes were repaired using what little carpentry knowledge the survivors possessed, which was not much. Their human slaves had traditionally been the labor force for such things, and had also been the first to be sacrificed to their masters. Without the constant work of serving, there was time to transform the community into something that could better serve. The population began to rise once more, with no demands of sacrifice and the screams of tiny hobgoblin spawn echoed through the mountain village.

They hoped that their masters would be pleased at the improvements. If only the masters would return.

It had been months after the departure of the Blood of Morueme. Many were wondering if their masters had been so displeased that they had abandoned the servants. It was winter, particularly wet and nasty. While not as cold as in years past, the temperature hovered around freezing, rising above and dipping below, and the winter winds brought not the expected and needed snow, but biting ice that slicked the stones, stabbed through clothes like formless invisible knives, and made even the mighty rothé ill.

That was when _she_ arrived.

The wind had been particularly harsh that day, surging through the valleys below Dragondoom like the great serpents they until recently served. Rain like draconic jaws sinking through a rothé calf, fell from the skies. The few hundred or so inhabitants of Doomspire hunkered down in their village, sheep and rothé hides wrapped around them, and the pit fires burning. The winds thankfully took the smoke from the roof vents, but it was little comfort.

Then, in the midst of the winter storm, it ended.

The air stilled.

The rain ceased.

Though the air was still raw, a few brave hobgoblins looked out their doors.

Selûne was bright, but was sinking, the Tears following her behind the mountain peaks, as the sun rose in the east. Clouds, no doubt those which so recently were overhead, faded into the horizons

It was a child who first spotted her.

At first she was but a tiny spot on the horizon, growing so slowly as the sky brightened. Some time passed, none were sure how much, before they realized the figure seemed to be human, a woman no less. However, the hobgoblins of Doomspire _knew_ without doubt that no human could walk on air itself.

Seemed to be, for she walked on air as if it was solid land, one foot in front of the other, something the residents of Doomspire knew only their masters, great lords of the air, could do. The clothes were strange, unlike anything they had seen from their former human slaves, nor of the orc traders. A heavy blue coat that was opened in the front, but hung down to her ankles, she had a thick covering over her torso that was thick like a ewe's hide, but had patterns none had seen before and was hide of no animal they knew, while her leggings were obviously light and thin, practically useless in such a clime.

But as the sun peaked through the mountains, it was her hair that attracted their attention. Long and straight, so unlike the ruddy brown mats and dreads of Doomspire, her hair glowed with the color of blood in the dawn light. Her top was the color of lush mountain moss and her leggings the color of their masters' scaly hides.

She paused, looking up at Dragondoom with a squinting pensive expression.

They had seen that look before.

The size and form were different, but the casual disdain, the acceptance of their servitude were unmistakable.

Their masters had arrived once more.

Hope returned to Doomspire.

* * *

Willow squinted in the morning light as she tried to track the magic calling to her.

She never even noticed the village below her as she climbed the invisible stairs of air to Moruene's Cave.

* * *

It would be weeks before they dared present their master's new form a gift. They were just pleased that the Blood had returned.

Just before dawn, the elders of Doomspire marched up the ancient stone steps, the firmest of the middle age behind them, bringing gifts of gold discovered in the rebuilding of their city; gifts of food from freshly slaughtered sheep; gifts of decorations made of their master's original and new forms sewn on scraped and tanned hides of Rothé and goat. Ewe's milk was fermented into a powerful draught and loaded into great casks, hauled one by one up the steps by a team of eight stout Hobgoblin warriors.

Careful not to wake their tumultuously tempered master, they prepared a feast in the hopes that their master would never abandon them again. The sun crept into the mouth of the cave, magically warm all year long, and shown into the great windows of the Bloodlair, ancient sleeping area of the blue dragon clan.

* * *

The sun fell on the two Willow's faces. The last few weeks after their encounter with Shar and other deities had been difficult. There was an issue with deific encounters that most mortals never considered. Mortals, to deities, were at best pets, tools for others, and ants for most of the remainder. Just as most humans cannot tell one ant from another, so did the Deities in their glances at the Willows. They looked the same. They smelled the same. What was the point at differentiating between them?

And so the Willows were having a bit of an identity crisis. It was not infinite, nor was it a war between them, but the memories each shared were at odds with those each possessed from the splitting point. Until Acathla, they had been the same person. After that, their lives took very different turns.

Both had dated Oz.

He had abandoned them both to deal with his curse.

One remained on Earth while the other survived in Aber-Toril.

Both felt the pain of that. It was not betrayal, but a parting.

They had dealt with it in very different ways.

One had moved on, found another love, only to lose her a few short years later after a tumultuous roller-coaster of a relationship.

The other had thrown herself into her studies, ignoring the need to pull back and think closer on the ethics and responsibilities.

Now, after walking under the uncaring eyes of deities, they were trying to figure out where one ended and the other began.

"Tara?" one said.

"Yes," said the other. Or maybe it was the first. The connection had been momentary, but had, for that single moment, been perfect.

"She was amazing, wasn't she?" one said sadly.

"She still is," the other replied, thinking of the other Tara.

"I didn't mean-" both said in unison. In the ancient fortress, they paused. Too often they had fallen into unison.

"Why this place?" one asked.

"I came here-"

"Or did I?" asked the other.

"I did," said the second. She had been known as Dark Willow, a name she had sadly earned with her actions. Something she regretted. "We may know all the other knew, like we experienced it ourselves, but we are not the same person."

"But," Willow the Red protested before cutting herself off.

"My mistakes are not yours," Dark Willow stated. "They are mine to make up for. Not yours."

"I know, but-"

"You're still mostly the lime-green sweater Willow, the one who saved Xander each year, the one with the yellow crayon, the one who was teased mercilessly by Cordelia," Dark Willow said. "You're the one who went out of her way to do the right thing when it needed to be done." She paused and looked out the ancient stained glass doors at the morning light. "I'm the one who nearly destroyed the world in grief and rage." She turned and spun on her slightly younger counterpart. "Don't become me. Do not walk in my shadow, follow my path. That's why I had to save you. I'd kill the gods themselves if I felt it would take back what I've done."

"You mean Buffy, Tara, Warren..." she trailed off.

"Yes, raising Buffy from the dead, playing with the mind of the love of my life," Dark Willow admitted as she turned back to her counterpart. "Torturing Warren. Losing control of my grief and anger. I do not regret killing him, only _how_ I did it."

"I guess I can-did you hear that?" Willow said, looking at the stained glass doors.

"There's something moving in the entryway," Dark Willow said as the two stood up. Willow reached for a stake, but the other shook her head. "No, you've got the knowledge, us it! Learn from my experiences _and_ my mistakes, but don't dismiss either one!"

Willow nodded and raised her arms and threw the doors wide open with a burst of will and magic.

The hobgoblins, momentarily stunned at their masters' sudden appearance, fell to the floor almost as one, genuflecting before their masters.

"Masters," the village chief, an old, muscular hobgoblin, said as he raised himself to one knee. "We thank you for returning. We have provided you with a feast in your honor."

Willow turned to Dark Willow with an accusatory look.

"I'm actually just as confused as you are," she admitted.

* * *

Weeks passed. Then months and eventually winter turned into spring and then into early summer. The Willows spent the time sorting out the village below and the caverns above.

"It's been bugging me, but I finally remembered where I saw this architecture," Willow said, waving a hand around the gigantic, cavernous room. The ceiling was curved upward, carved out of bare rock, but was supported by manufactured columns, ornately carved by some ancient hand. Stairs connected the various chambers, too small for a dragon and even a hobgoblin would hit his or her head on the ceiling. However, they were perfect for humans. Most other chambers were connected at later times, no doubt by the Blood of Morueme in the later centuries of occupation.

The dragonlairs had evidence of human sized buildings within those massive chambers, but long since demolished to make way for piles of precious metals, hills of sapphires and arcane trinkets.

"This was built by the same people as the vampire-filled city Buffy found," the elder Willow replied. "Yes, I saw the similarities myself."

"I read something in one of the books in the back caverns about lost empires," the younger Willow explained. "It's hard to imagine how old this region is compared to California. Hundred year old buildings were set up for historic preservation. The buildings in this cave system are thousands of years old, if I understand the calendars correctly."

"What if we asked the-" elder Willow gave a sharp nod to the entrance.

"I don't like them serving us," younger Willow said not for the first time. "We're not their masters. We're just us."

"And they might try to kill us if they think otherwise and learn the truth," Elder Willow countered, also not for the first time. "We've been teaching them more about farming and construction. Things they never knew before, at least not the way we know."

"But a well fed slave is still a slave," Younger Willow argued. "It's not right that they would keep serving us like this."

"If they chose to rise up we might be forced to kill them all, Willow, you know that," Elder Willow stated. "But this is not the issue at hand. Should we return these to Sunnydale?" She nodded to the walls lined with tomes of magic and lore.

"A pile of knowledge isn't any good unless you use it," Willow the Younger said.

"What if we expose the villagers to Sunnydale so they stop thinking of themselves as slaves and us as masters?" Elder Willow pondered.

"But you just said-"

"Yes, but they're too isolated, unable to understand what has changed or what they could become," Elder Willow explained. "But if they start to learn what freedom means, then we 'free' them from themselves?"

"Oooo! Then we could tell them the truth and they won't try to kill us!" Younger Willow exclaimed.

"It's an idea. Also a possible way to get rid of all this gold and gems," Elder Willow said, nodding to the accumulated wealth.

To call the dragon's hoard "wealth" would be a bit of a disservice along the lines of calling the Palace of Versailles a quaint cottage with a nice garden. Dragons, all types, be they the noble Gold, the playful Bronze, the malicious White or malevolent Red, coveted gold, silver, gems and monetary wealth in physical form, sleeping on it like a dog on their favorite rug, but more possessive of it than Ebeneezer Scrooge before his undead visitations. Some, like the Blue Dragons who made up the Blood of Morueme, coveted arcane knowledge as much as wealth and it showed in Dragonspire. There were cabinets of scrolls and a hoard of magical weapons stored in wooden barrels like one would store umbrellas by the door; enchanted trinkets of all sorts were piled up in corners. In each lair were massive piles of gemstones and precious metals, the dragons' fading spells having kept their hoards from the tarnishes of time. Those piles were more like small hills, mounds that glittered in the enchanted lights lined along the walls with eerie patterns of light and dark. There wasn't a home in Sunnydale that could compare for size; only a few of the larger public buildings were comparable in size to the combined hoards.

The original walls of Dragonspire, where they still remained after the Draconic "renovations," were painted with gold so thick it did not chip. The lights were gemstones larger than Willow's head, enchanted to shine with a pale blue-white light similar to that of the sun. Ostentatious did not begin to describe Dragonspire.

"Anything arcane we will set aside, but we'll take the gold and gems back to Sunnydale," Elder Willow explained.

* * *

Three days later, at breakfast, the Two Masters explained their new plan. The chief of Doomspire had to agree that with their changed forms, the sleeping arrangements could not be the same. He remembered once, as a child, attempting to sleep on coins as the Masters did and found it quite unpleasant. He hadn't that many coins, so supplemented with river rocks, but the effect had been the same. He agreed instantly to the plans to arrange for transport of the useless metals. Too soft for digging the earth or armor, the yellow coins looked pretty, but were mostly useless. The gems. While baubles are pretty, and nice on occasion, most of those were far too large to be useful.

It should be noted that Doomspire worked on a barter economy, with no need for coinage of any sort and therefor had not the same appreciation of it as a monetary society would. Their wealth was in the herds and land, not in useless metals and gems.

"I will begin with the construction of the carts," the chief said. "We are short of wood, so it may take some time."

"What if you just built a few, and we pick up some more in Sunnydale?" Elder Willow suggested. "You could bring back things you need for the village, like wood, and, um, potatoes. There are a lot of potatoes that will grow well here."

"As the Willows command," he said. Willow and Willow had been quite opposed to being called "Master" all the time, but having their name used as a synonymic title was not much better. Unfortunately, it was as best as they could. The hobgoblin villagers had taken their every request as a command, much to the Willows' disgust. The two redheaded witches tried to change things, but still this was taken as a series of commands.

"And since it's spring, you should be extra careful," Willow the Younger instructed. "I don't want any of you getting hurt or anything."

"Any of you who accompany us," Elder Willow put in. "How goes the mining?"

They had discovered a large amount of iron ore in the local bedrock. It had been used by Doomspire to a limited extent for tools and the like, but it was blacksmithing as a minor side skill, rather than an actual occupation. Hobgoblins, like their cousin races, were miners of some skill, though not as precise as Dwarves, their greater strength made them quite industrious and successful. They had been known to dig mine shafts for long distances just in case they found what they were looking for. In the areas of Doomspire, they had used this skill for their stone masonry supplies. With the coming of the Willows, their refinement of ore increasing greatly as the Willows added their limited knowledge of metallurgy to the skills of the citizens of Doomspire. Both Willows felt a bit guilty for using the natives, but hoped that they were doing the right thing.

The Hobgoblins of Doomspire would never be the same.

The iron, now being worked in a smelter heated by a collection of fire enchanted weapons, was slowly turned into a poor quality steel, though still better than what the Hobgoblins had made previously which was steel only by accident from the coal they traded for in previous years.

Forms were made of the more heat resistant soapstone found on other slopes.

While neither Willow knew much of engineering, they had once, as children, spent a few weeks in the White Mountains with their parents. While it would not be quite the same, the new paths worked along the same idea as the Cog Railway up Mount Washington, a steep, slow route to ship things.

Rothé hauled carts down the winding trails as hobgoblin workers carved a straighter path beside it. Rails were placed on it, supported by hobgoblin stonework. They avoided valleys and other physical obstacles, though most had already been moved by the villagers after the Blood vanished.

The rails were designed with stone steps between them instead of wooden ties, as this allowed the hobgoblins to hitch rothé to the primeval train and prevented slippage. Rough iron wagons linked together with equally rough chains slowly rolled down the hillside railway, guided by the massive rothé, some in front, some behind. The two rothé allowed them to control the speed of the trains, preventing them from sluicing down. This had been developed after one near fatal accident that still cost one hobgoblin worker a foot. That hobgoblin had since been working as a sorter in Dragonspire proper and would separate the various coins from each other and had started on learning his numbers from the Willows. Manual breaks were installed in the form of a rough metal bar that pressed against the wheel and rail, sending up sparks and only worked before the cars gained speed and downward inertia. Still, it was better than nothing.

Periodically along the rails were sections of double tracks which allowed a cart to go upwards as well as continue down. The switch tracks had been more error and quite a trial, but eventually worked, allowing for more than one wagon to work the rails at a time.

A second village, named Willow's Rail in honor of their new masters, had been built at the bottom, stocked with beds and surrounded by fences built of stone. The fences, constructed of same stone used for the rail steps, kept the rothé contained and kept the giant birds out. There were only fifteen men and women in the lower village, but they were proud citizens of Willow's Rail. The buildings were fitted dry stone construction, with sod roofs on wooden beams (having saved all wood they recovered from the clogged mountain streams). They worked well, that is, if one didn't mind the occasional burrowing animal falling from the ceiling. Still, they kept the rain outside and the buildings warm or cool depending on the need. Cooking was done in a separate building that also housed the well, though most water was hauled from the nearby mountain stream that traditionally followed the mountain trail.

It was hard, rough work and everyone took part making it happen. The Willows worked hard teaching skills such as first aid and tried to make sure that fewer accidents happened. The chief made an impressive foreman and architect, designed the pathway down the mountain. The elders helped organize the rest of the villagers into labor units and made sure that everything was done right.

Though it was not a long stretch, Doomspire far below the peak of Dragonspire proper; it took months to complete. There was not a person in the village who was not proud of what they accomplished. It was early summer when the Willows were ready to head out into the grasslands below. What they found was not what they expected to find.

* * *

"Emus?" Willow the Younger asked in shock.

There must have been fifty of them, scratching around in the dirt as the fathers taught the younger generation about what was tasty and what was to be avoided. Several were hunting some large chubby rodents similar to prairie dogs or woodchucks.

"Emus?" Elder Willow asked in confusion.

"They are quite good eating," pointed out one eager to please hobgoblin child, only to be hushed by her parents.

"How long have they been here?" Willow the Younger asked one of the elders.

"Since before we repaired the cobblestones," the Sub-Chief in charge of Willow's Rail explained. "They have tough hides, good for leather, and the feathers are quite useful. They produce an oil superior to rothé, which we use for our lamps."

"They can be farmed," Willow the Younger pointed out. "We had farms in Sunnydale."

"But how are there so many?" Elder Willow pondered. She shook her head. It wasn't really important. She turned back to the Chief, Sub-Chief and Elders. "Stay healthy when we are gone. Have some kids. If you want to continue working on the rail road, feel free. You know where we're going, so just aim in that direction."

Sunnydale, still perched high in the foothills south of the ancient mountains, stood out like an emerald on the western horizon.

"Don't forget to boil your water first," Willow the Younger reminded them. "Less disease that way. And have lots of kids. Not you guys specifically, since you're all probably too old, but you in the general sense, because there aren't a lot of you and more would make you stronger. And don't forget to cook your meat all the way through and-"

She was cut off by Elder Willow pulling her towards the rothé wagons waiting ahead. As the two vanished into the distance, the Sub-Chief turned to the Chief.

"The Masters talk a lot more than I remember," he commented.

"I noticed that too," the Chief agreed. "The Elder Willow calls it babbling."

* * *

"General, we've had a break-in at the prison island," a lowly Lt. in the SSDF reported. General Hennessey turned towards the younger woman, a native half-orc who had joined up in the last year. She'd successfully passed the officer's courses offered at the university with work towards a degree in Earth Sciences, something the general recalled she was planning on continuing later on. Her skin was paler green than most of her mother's side and she was quite a bit shorter than the average orc, something that had been a problem when dealing with some of the full blooded orcs that had joined up recently. She'd been added to the rotating security teams that patrolled the outlying areas of Sunnydale that were out beyond the few places with roads.

The prison island was a pretty primitive place at this point, even more than a year after they'd arrived. Originally just a small mountain, it had become an island after the arrival of Sunnydale, with the valley Sunnydale had landed on being plugged up by the transported land itself. With nowhere to go, the mountain river water had quickly filled the remaining valley, turning the ravaged bit of dirt and rock into the only peak in Lake Sunnydale. It had remained so for some months until the army of Hellgate Keep invaded. There were nearly a hundred Tanarukk still alive after that battle and Sunnydale had no treaty requiring them to send Hellgate Keep's army back to them intact. Sunnydale at that point had still been surviving on aid from nearby nations and city-states, and had only been given one suggestion as to how to deal with the demonic orcs: kill them. The Mayor, not being one to let anyone tell him what to do in his city, had decided to send them to this desolate bit of dirt, rock and grass, all greater vegetation having been blasted away in Sunnydale's arrival.

The Prison Island, as it soon became known, was a harsh place to live in the early days. Everyone lived in tents, there were no walls or structures. The Tanarukks, then still programmed into loyalty to their demonic masters, were given no weapons other than those improvised from farm equipment. With the help of the newly arrived Hippie-Xander (as the dimensional clone of Alexander Harris became known, something that the young man didn't totally disagree with), the Tanarukk warriors became farmers, or warrior-farmers at least, turning the treacherous landscape into a series of terrace farms that dotted the east-south-and west sides of the island to catch the maximum amount of sunlight every day. The north side was turned into a series of thatched stone buildings that actually resembled rural Ireland if not for the fact that the doorways were twice as wide and several feet taller to accommodate the new occupants. Water was brought up from the late to irrigate the beds by a series of hand pumps that each Tanarukk took turns working. Native edible plants were grown and thrived under the attention with rice being grown seasonally in the warm waters of geothermal vents around the island's shores. The tubers, berries, leafy greens and native squashes were quickly becoming staple foods for the prisoners supplemented with sheep raised on other islands. Heating was almost unnecessary due to the planetouched orcs' ability to manipulate fire, allowing even a tiny spark to grow into a healthy warm fire with little effort.

Hippie-Xander's efforts were so successful that the Tanarukk prisoners actually grew more than they consumed, and ended supplying food and seed stores for gardens and farms in the city proper. As the months passed, the officials in Sunnydale hoped to have the Tanarukks move off the island to help train others in their farming techniques, but the demonic orcs refused, choosing to stay on the island, effectively turning the prison island into a colony.

It wasn't long before others were sent to the prison island. These prisoners were used to a different lifestyle than the Tanarukks and almost instantly caused trouble either from refusal to work, or rage at being housed with the orcs. Major Henningsvær, the SSDF officer in charge of the island, made it quite clear that "if you don't work, you don't eat." It was perhaps a bit harsh, but it worked and even McGristle learned when he got hungry enough. Oh, he made a few escape attempts, but his nautical knowledge was not enough to allow him to pilot the Svolvær to shore, or even allow him to raise the anchor and since he never learned how to swim, he had no other choice but to submit.

Eventually, people would finish their sentences. Jack O'Toole received a 2 month sentence after some theft and vandalism. Others would only be there for two weeks or so. Punishment in Sunnydale no longer had a fine, since money was not as important as it once was. The value had changed and more physical punishments had greater positive effects. When a person's sentence was up, they would be brought back onto the mainland via the Svolvær where they would resume their normal work. Ironically, it was considered one of the most humane prison systems in northern Faerûn.

Eventually things fell into a pattern. There were a few moments of excitement, like freak storms or Tanarukk births (very few due to the small number of Tanarukk women), but things tended to even out. The Tanarukks acted as prison guards, Hippie-Xander would help with the development of new crops and farming techniques, the prisoners would farm alongside the planetouched orcs, and Major Henningsvær would act as overall Warden.

All that changed when simultaneous attacks by Fzoul's Baneite army hit the dock, the small town on the north side of the island and the three towers. The dock was a smoldering ruin, the Svolvær having only escaped because it was returning several of Sunnydale High's finest repeat offenders back to the mainland.

Men and women in black chainmail appeared through portals opened to allow them entrance to the island assisted by black robed clerics and mages. All bore the same black fist on their chests. What shocked the guards most of all was not their appearance, which was startling enough, but their armaments: each and every one of them was armed with rifles.

One of the reasons that guns so easily overtook earlier technologies was the simplicity in learning how to use one. When the colonists arrived in the Americas and started trading with the Native Americans, firearms became the weapon of choice within a generation. It took decades to become truly proficient with a bow and arrow, generations to be truthful, but one could use a gun with little experience and only a few weeks of training. And so it was with the Baneite soldiers, armed with rifles that, while not top of the line or power, still allowed them greater reach and destructive potential. The guard post on the southern peak of the island was the first to fall, the hardwood walls looking more like kindling than siding, stained red with the blood of those inside.

The soldiers marched across the fields, crushing underfoot any crops that were in their way. Two more guard posts fell the same way, bullets to those stationed there and fireballs taking out anyone in the structure. At the third guard post, things changed as the word got out. While the troops advanced, early warning on the radio gave later posts more time to prepare. As the black clad invaders marched over the hill in a line, they were a perfect target for the more experienced and trained SSDF troops. While they had magic and their deity's favor, Baneite military tactics weren't very advanced beyond "stand in a line and shoot." This would prove to be rather fatal for the first wave of Baneite fighters.

The second wave didn't even bother looking at the bodies of the first and fell the same way. Unfortunately for them, the SSDF got off a message to HQ and to the other posts. Reinforcements arrived from the other posts, flanking the invaders into a crossfire. The casualties were felt on both sides, though as soon as the SSDF organized, successive casualties were weighted much more on the Baneite side. Parties were organized and started marching forward and it wasn't that hard to backtrack to point of origin. Just barely on the edge of the water, a shimmering portal spun, looking like nothing so much as a ring of spiraling shadow and darkness. Testing with a stick and string, it was quickly revealed to be a two way portal. Taking precautions, the SSDF soldiers strung five grenades together, pulling the pins and tossed them in. Only moments after they took cover, the portal sputtered and let out a gasp of smoke and shrapnel, shuddering as its stability degraded and finally collapsed.

"We've closed the portal, sir," the team leader reported via radio.

"Scour the island," was the command. Further orders were to find out what the hell they wanted.

Casualty lists were made; maps of the attack compiled; security concerns were strengthened. It would be three days before they discovered that Hippie-Xander was missing.

* * *

"I want to know what the hell happened!" Joyce commanded a day after the attack. She had been dealing with meetings, press conferences and questions about where the hell her daughter was during all this. "Who, what, why, when and how. Talk to me."

"Who: Fzoul Chembryl. " General Hennessey reported as he stood up at the front of the briefing room, pointing to a map of the island. "We were warned that he, and Bane, had set their sights on Sunnydale, but we didn't expect this kind of attack. He sent in soldiers for a sneak attack that left at least 25 dead, fifteen wounded, just at the guard posts, but they torched the launch and burned a number of the thatched roof houses in the village. We know some of the prisoners and guards are missing, but there's so much to sort through and the island still has plenty of places to hide, so at this time we don't know the full extent of the casualties or survivors." He frowned, the lines on his dark face creasing, making him seem a decade or more older than he was. He changed to another slide, this one of the spot with the portal. "They were organized, trained and much better armed than we expected." He paused to hold up a rifle. "What: Guns. I'll give him this, he's smart. This isn't a replica of one of our modern arms, but something closer to what were used in the Spanish-American war. More accurate than those used in the Civil War, but nothing compare to the advances in the later decades of the 20th century. Even so, they're balanced, light, easily reproduced and even more easy to use."

"We should have known that our technology would spread," Giles commented. "It was rather arrogant of us not to anticipate this."

"I agree," the General said with a frown. He set the rifle back down and held up a spent cartridge. "The one thing that saved us is their lack of understanding of firearm warfare. Their tactics were crude, very similar to those of the Civil War. Big armies, standing in a line, trying to kill the others. It was a standard of most armies until about the end of WWI."

"That was a bit different, wasn't it?" Alan asked. The General shook his head.

"They dug trenches, but the basics were the same as previous wars for the most part," he explained. "It's a tactic that does little but get a lot of people killed on both sides, but it's an extension of the old battles from Medieval times when they were still fighting with pikes, arrows and swords. It took millions of casualties in WWI for us, Americans, to realize the folly of it. That's why in later wars the tactics changed. Radios changed things as well since groups could be smaller and further apart from each other. Mobility is the modern tactic of choice."

"Fzoul Chembryl has shown he isn't an idiot," Joyce put in. "Does this mean we can expect a change in tactics?"

General Hennessey thought about that for a moment. But Maggie Walsh spoke up first.

"It's possible," she said. "We don't know all that much about him. We have hearsay and reports of previous actions, but not enough to have really created a full profile as is usually the case for situations like this. He's proven himself smart and cunning enough to take advantage of our blind spots. That much is true, but he's dealing with soldiers who are probably very new to rifles and their previous tactics are ingrained in them. I think we're in more danger from former adventuring groups taking up his cause."

"Adventuring groups?" Alan asked.

"It's a rather odd cultural phenomena common across most cultures of Faerûn," Walsh explained. "Small groups who take it upon themselves to raid undead filled tombs, hunt monsters, and complete 'quests' of various sorts. Their skills are diversified between stealth, combat, magic and such, but they also tend to have superior teamwork. From what I've learned in my latest study, something my people have been working on for a few months, they are the closest that the locals come to our version of special forces."

Heads turned to the locals. Kellindil nodded. "It is quite common, actually. While racial tension exists between many races and nations, adventurers tend to overcome that. They're usually a tight-knit group if they've lasted any time at all. I know we were with Dove," he said, looking to Fret, who smiled in agreement. "Not all of them are very nice. If I remember my history correctly, the Dead Three were once mortal adventurers until they supplanted the previous deity of Death, Jergal, who now serves under Myrkul, the current human deity of Death."

"Dead Three?"

"Bane, Lord of Tyranny; Bhaal, Lord of Murder; and Myrkul, Lord of Death," Fret explained. "All once human, and evil even then, if legends are correct. The attained apotheosis at the end of their adventures. Jergal's portfolio – the aspects of a deity's existence – were split up between the three of them. Bane breaks them; Bhaal delivers them; and Myrkul keeps them. The Dead Three."

"So, if Fzoul is the chief minion of Bane, and Bane was an adventurer, we can expect Fzoul to send in adventurers to muck up our works," Joyce summed up.

"True, but I believe it will not be the deciding factor," Kanyr Vhok said from the back of the room, shocking the others since they never even knew he was in the room. The reaction amused him a bit, but he pushed onward quickly. "He might be able to train a few elite groups of soldiers in more adaptable tactics, but I think the others will have their old habits pretty well ingrained. The most are probably going to be experienced amateurs. This is a war of fanatics, though I expect a lot of unwilling conscripts on their part. They're going to be hungry, desperate. But that's just the basic troops. You can expect a lot of magical support from the clerics. Bane tends not to have many practitioners of the Art, so arcane power should be less common."

"Ah, good you're here," Joyce said. "What's the situation of his spies?"

"Operation Mushroom is working well," he said with a toothy grin. At the confused eyes of the locals, he explained. "Kept in the dark and fed shit. We're handing misinformation on a regular basis as well as starting plenty of rumors for them to pick up from other sources. I've stepped up on tracking them. They always have one of my people around them at all times."

"Your people?" General Hennessey asked with a raised eyebrow.

"They're very good at their job," was the only reply. "Each Baneite agent has a magical mirror for communication. The non-Zhents have been pretty smart and fixed them in makeup kits so it doesn't look strange for them to carry around a mirror."

"So those spies, they're women?" Chase asked.

"Only when they want to be, Mr. Chase," Vhok replied. "They're quite good at their job. Not as good as me, but very good."

"What _is_ your job?" Walsh asked.

"A little Mission Impossible, a little MI:5, a little BPRD," he answered with another toothy grin. He turned to the head of the Initiative, Rupert Giles, and as the cambion spoke the other cabinet members did so as well. "To be elaborate, the agents are demons or devilkin. Succubi if demonic."

Giles' face hardened.

"Succubi are rather rare on Earth, since almost all our demons are the product of inbreeding with humans and other demons," he began. "Succubi, on the other hand, are somewhat minor _true_ demons. However, I suppose calling minor is a bit of an error considering that even minor True Demons have more power than most others. They can shift form into anything of a vaguely humanoid shape from orcs to humans. Gender has little physical meaning to them. While popular culture would have them be separate, Incubi and Succubi are actually the same creature. Each one chooses their sex for themselves and gender is only a function of their personal preference." He pulled off his glasses and gave them a good cleaning as he leaned back in his chair and summoned up any memories he had on the subject. Of course, considering his ill spent youth, there had been more than a little focus on succubi. "Contrary to popular culture, they do not need to have sex with others to kill, but as little contact as a quick kiss can weaken or kill. The longer they have contact, the easier it is to kill. They have many magical abilities, focusing mostly in misdirection, illusions and ensnaring mortal minds."

He paused a moment to slip his glasses back on. "They can speak any language like a native. Have a certain ability towards mind-reading. They are, in fact, quite possibly the most dangerous infiltrators we could have."

"And what Mr. Giles has not mentioned, this is all before they start on other pursuits, since they can focus their energies towards a variety of trades," Vhok put in. "Baby succubi have all those powers. Experienced succubi can be powerful mages or clerics in their own right. Some even choose martial or stealthy trades."

He leaned back and cracked his neck sharply as he glanced at his audience. This was so much more pleasant than his debriefings back in Hellgate Keep. His mother, a marilith of no small power, was never very pleasant, and always wanted more than he had.

"Fzoul's agents are similar, though my suspicions are to devilkin, rather than demons, or perhaps a few dopplegangers here and there," Vhok explained. He grinned at the slightly confused looks of the Sunnydalers. "Demons are beings of chaos, Devils, however, are obsessed with order and control, which fits much better with Fzoul's patron."

Joyce looked to Giles for confirmation. He straightened his glasses.

"Yes, most of the stories we have of contracts are with devils and devilkin," Giles explained. "Faust is one such example. It is a case of the, forgive the expression, Devil is in the details. Anyone who survives making a contract to a true devil is no doubt very powerful with a sharp attention to detail."

"Such is the case we have here," Vhok cut in. "Judging by how well they've done thus far, I'd venture a guess they're at least a few centuries old each. I am not, however, quite sure of the type of devil Fzoul has contracted. One at least, has shown some skill at the arcane outside of their own supernatural abilities."

"The Zhent, on the other hand," Vhok explained. "Is a bit different. He doesn't even really know he's a spy for Fzoul. He thinks he's still working for Mr. Peris' boss. Those reports are instead going to Fzoul on the other end. He's human, between thirty-five and fifty, a skilled trader and spy. He's been working hard to make contacts with other ne'er-do-wells in the city." He flicked a remote at the projector, popping up a rather familiar face. "Our dead former-Detective Stein. He was not happy with the change in leadership or the loss of his position. With the purge of the vampires and other hostile demon groups, he was lacking funds, since he was paid quite well by certain groups to look the other way, or explain away certain activities. At one point he was being paid to put pressure on Madame President's daughter. That is no longer the case."

"What have you done with him?" General Hennessey asked gruffly.

"He's been replaced. His death from a combination of alcohol and cold weather last winter was fortuitous," Vhok explained, grinning at the shocked looks on his fellow government officials. "Fzoul isn't the only one to have skilled shapechangers, telepaths and mages on staff. 'Stein' is now in an undisguised location. He has been pumped for information and replaced by my best agent."

"If he's dead then how-" Chase asked before suddenly going a bit green as he realized what the man meant. Giles glowered at the secret agent, who just grinned as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"What has he handed off?" Joyce asked, steepleing her fingers as she leaned back in her chair. She wasn't pleased by news of the walking dead, but at the same time if the information helped keep her city alive, she was willing to ignore this instance of necromancy.

"My agent is quite sure that he is the leak that supplied Fzoul with firearms," he replied. "We were very strict in the restriction and regulation of firearms because we didn't want this to happen. Stein, on the other hand, decided he knew better, traded all he knew about guns, written notes mind you, for a rather small bag of gold. Honestly, it wouldn't even buy a good suit."

"Why didn't you bring this up before?" Hennessey demanded hotly.

"We knew there was contact, but the replacement only found out the details three hours ago, when better details were demanded," Vhok explained. "It wasn't until the subsequent interrogation that we discovered the source of the leak. I had to work fast to find out exactly what had happened."

"Any other leaks?" Hennessey asked, not pleased, but understanding of the situation.

"Oh, many, however, only one is of any significance," Vhok explained. "Every time we talk to a local about what life is like in Sunnydale, we give information away. The best agents take a little bit here and a little bit there, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. They put them together and get the bigger picture."

"And the other problem?" Joyce asked.

"Jack O'Toole," Vhok explained. Giles groaned at the familiar name. The O'Toole boy had been quite a problem for some time.

"Let me guess," Giles asked flatly. "He's been stealing things and selling them?"

"Precisely," Vhok agreed. "He has just enough mystical knowledge from his necromancer grandfather to have an eye for magic. I would be surprised if his skills extend beyond the necromantic sphere, and minor aura reading – he's none too powerful – but could probably cast a few spells if need be. He steals books, scrolls, enchanted items, and sells them to traders. Unfortunately, he only gets caught about half the time. Judging by his past actions, I think a simple explanation is that his black market operation could make him a traitor, which calls for the death penalty; he should keep his sticky fingers in Sunnydale. Instead, we should use him to send false information."

"And his grandfather?" Joyce asked.

"Was left behind when Sunnydale arrived," Vhok answered quickly.

"Good," Joyce said with disgust at the thought of a necromancer lurking around. She turned to Hennessey. "Getting back to the original topic, Where?"

"We don't know," he replied. "Fzoul knows the region better than we do, local assistance aside. We also know that he's using portals to launch his attacks, so that tells me he probably has a specific base of operations somewhere. We don't know why he hasn't just sent his minions right into the center of Sunnydale, because that is where we're weakest. It's the hardest place to move troops to quickly."

"I can actually answer that," Peris put in, holding up a hesitant hand. Joyce waved for him to continue. "Lord Manshoon's Black Cloaks have attempted many times to open up a stable portal between Zhentil Keep and Sunnydale, but have always failed. In fact, almost all attempts at magical teleportation into the nation, city or otherwise, have failed."

"When have they succeeded?" Joyce asked, her lips going rather thin in displeasure at the news.

"The first that I know of was when my team attempted to assist during the invasion from Hellgate Keep," Peris explained. "My mages have stated that they felt like they were _allowed_ in by something that time. Similarly, they have attempted the spell since, and instead of a similar result, the spell was magically successful, but the targets went nowhere."

"That is... troubling," Giles muttered as he pondered the mystical implications.

"And the second?"

"The attack at the prison island," Peris answered quickly. "I would like to say that in my defense, I was holding two covers at the same time. I am a Harper. I am also the Ambassador to Sunnydale for the Zhentarim. While my past actions are not, perhaps, honorable, they were done to protect my cover and therefore my life. I did not know at the time that Lord Manshoon was aware of my allegiance all along."

"You were useful to him, so he kept you as long as you continued to be so," Vhok clarified. "You were a tool. You still are, though your use has changed. Manshoon stands to gain a vast amount from our battle with Fzoul. We win, we take out one of his major competitors in his organization. We lose, he learns what mistakes we made so he may not make them himself. By aiding us, he gains. It's simple economics to him."

"Right," Peris said in nervous thanks. "I don't know how the portal opened on the island. By the standards the Black Cloaks had been used to, it shouldn't have worked."

"So something changed," Giles pondered. "It's possible Fzoul opened it himself. Having the additional backing of a greater deity is one possible explanation. I can't know for sure without more information."

"Our isolation, while a hindrance for trade," Hennessey explained, "is otherwise our greatest advantage. We're hard to get to. Even with portals, they're going to have to set up somewhere. An army moves on its stomach. He has to feed his people. He has to transport his people and food to the army. Unless those portals are open for long periods of time, he won't be able to simply open one up and send an army through. From reports it was only big enough for a horse or three men side by side to march through."

"So unless he can make a huge portal or keep one open for a long time in a hidden place, we've got protection from anything but smaller hit and run attacks, am I right?" Joyce asked. Hennessey and Vhok nodded.

"From what I know about him, he'll probably save his elites for later and just send conscripts or others he considers useless," Vhok explained. "If there's a specific mission, he'll send elites, but otherwise he'll save them for later on."

The president nodded before turning to her cultural adviser.

"Miss Tendo, how is the situation on the ground?" Joyce asked.

"People are tense," Nabiki Tendo replied. "This is a small population compared to what we were used to. Just about everybody either knows someone who was killed or wounded, or knows someone who does. While 25 dead might not seem much back on Earth, it's a big deal with a small population. People are starting to really divide on the subject of war. Some people, especially those 40 or older, are worried about a draft."

"It might come to that if things get bad enough," Hennessey admitted. "We're growing, especially with the enlisted orc troops, but they've got habits that need breaking and retraining. I don't know if they'll be ready in time for an actual war and I don't want to sacrifice them or seem like I did, because that's just going to hurt the current situation between us."

Joyce and a few of the others nodded, understanding the tenseness of the situation. The Shaman of Ilneval wasn't present as he was giving his daily blessing to the troops with the base chaplain and rabbi. It was an odd custom that looked like it was going to stick around.

"The Norwegians are of two minds about this," the Asian woman continued. "They pride themselves on their peaceful nature. One of the greatest sources of pride for them is that Nobel chose Oslo for the Peace Prize. On the other hand, memories of the Nazi atrocities committed during their occupation of Norway are pretty strong. We have two known survivors of the Norwegian Resistance and almost all of them have at least heard stories of the war. An added bonus to them is that a lot of the adults have military training, at least a year of it, from the mandatory service they're required to have. Many are considering the situation but haven't really taken a side."

"The Chinese groups are a little different," Nabiki continued, flipping to a new page of her technomagical pad. "The pressure to conform has created some tension. While most are appreciative that Cantonese is offered in school as an elective now, they still want to hold onto their cultural identity. Those from the PRC are still demanding Mandarin be mandatory, even though they're almost the only speakers of it and are outnumbered five to one by Cantonese speakers. They are especially resentful of the pressure to assimilate because of their national status and the vastly different culture they came from. I haven't heard much about the attack either way from them."

"The Japanese groups are rather confused about it all," she continued. "We are from a culture that had to endure the unendurable, and we've grown up in that cultural atmosphere. Only three of us actually remember the American occupation or the war, but the culture clash is still being felt and there are many who see this situation as another occupation. Most don't agree, but there's a vocal minority demanding a bit more separation from Sunnydale. The most vocal are members of the Uyoku Dantai, a collection of right wing extremist groups in our native Japan. Though many of them supported the United States during the Cold War, subsequent changing diplomacy created distrust of Americans in general. They're known for announcing their political beliefs from vans and megaphones to get their message across. We don't have vans, but megaphones are much more common. Add to the fact that we, as Japanese, are still quite insular in terms of race and nationalism, I expect these groups to be rather troublesome in the long run."

"What have they been saying?" Joyce asked.

"Since the attack, they've been suspiciously quiet," Nabiki Tendo replied. "But earlier, they were quite outspoken against your election, ignoring your landslide, because you are a white woman. These are ultra-right-wing radicals. They called your appointment oppression and communism. This isn't held by most Japanese citizens, but their message was being heard. As for now, I don't know. We'll have to wait and see how they react to the attack."

"Are you still having the problems with language?" General Hennessey asked. The woman frowned.

"The informality of Americans is difficult for us to understand," she admitted. "Even myself, and I consider myself quite liberated for a Japanese woman, have trouble with the change from our culture, where honorifics are very important, to a culture where little kids call the President by her first name to her face. This is especially a problem in the high school, though younger kids are adapting better."

"What is the problem in school?" Vhok asked honestly curious as he'd had his own culture shock to deal with.

"Americans use first names," she explained. "In Japan, that's only for very close friends or lovers. Even siblings use honorifics for older or younger sibling. A boy calls a girl by her name without an honorific, that boy is saying they're lovers. Or at least making the claim. It's a presumption that's very rude and even worse when a teacher uses a first name. However, Americans don't see it that way. You are who you are. You have a name, everybody uses it. They don't understand the presumption in the way they speak."

"Is this going to be an ongoing problem?" Joyce asked.

"It is a problem right now. It is culture clash," the woman explained. "However, I do not know if it will continue. Like I said, the younger children are becoming quickly accustomed to the American way of speaking, at least in school. It's a problem, but not one that I foresee being a long term problem."

"Anything else we should know?" the president asked.

"Political parties are trying to find their identities," the woman explained. "Right now, there's a lot of condemnation of the attack and anger, but there aren't really sides in this, not yet. I think it will be a little while before the parties stand up and say 'this is what I believe in.'"

"So that's what's been happening," Joyce said. "Now where do we go from here?"

* * *

Xander woke up in pain. This wasn't much of a surprise considering he'd just taken an iron boot from a magically enhanced fanatic to the gut, but was a surprise was waiting up to see himself.

"Uh, hello, me," he said, looking at his counterpart.

"Hello," the other Xander said, holding a soaked rag to his forehead.

"Bump?"

"Yes," the other Xander said quietly. Neither Xander said anything for some time.

"How many?" the first asked as he painfully pulled himself up into a sitting position. Hippie-Xander gave a deep sigh.

"I don't know," Hippie-Xander said. "I know at least five died protecting me even after I asked them not to."

"You were just going to let them take you?" Xander asked in horror.

"It's not worth it for them to die just to protect me. I'm only one man," Hippie-Xander replied. "The needs of the many are greater than the needs of the one."

"Sometimes the needs of the one are more important for the future needs of the many," Xander countered. "You didn't fight? Not at all?"

"I'm not you, Xander," Hippie-Xander replied calmly. He pulled his legs under him and rested his hands palm upwards in his lap. "My parents weren't your parents. Sure, we might look exactly alike and have identical genetics and finger prints, but I'm not you."

"I get that, I mean, bad-Buffy wasn't like my Buffy," Xander agreed. "But there had to be some similar starting point."

"Contrary to popular belief, my world didn't diverge at Halloween, Xander," Hippie-Xander said. "My parents turned to Buddhism when they were trying to deal with their anger and drinking. They recognized the problem when I was a kid. I grew up Buddhist. I might have had a greater change on Halloween, but I was Buddhist long before that."

"That's so..."

"Think of how I feel, seeing your parents, seeing how everyone looks down on them," Hippie-Xander replied. "I don't criticize you or them. I just want you to understand."

Xander paused, looking at his dimensional double. Hippie-Xander, as Xander had mentally labeled his counterpart, wore an orange robe and sported a shaved head, dark with stubble. He didn't have any of the minute scars Xander recognized in the mirror. It didn't look right, either. It wasn't the head wound, but like looking in a funhouse mirror, seeing aspects of his counterpart that just weren't right. Moles and lines were out of place. The ears looked wrong. It wasn't _really_ that different, Xander just wasn't used to looking at himself other than in a mirror.

Unlike the other Scoobies, Xander had intentionally avoided his double. The others, even Elven Giles, had come into conflict with their usual version. While Buffy and Drizzt had the most dramatic opposites, Xander didn't want to risk that happening to him. So, in perhaps not the wisest of choices, Xander avoided the problem.

"Where are we?" Xander asked.

"I was dragged through a portal," Hippie-Xander replied. "A fortress – warmer, dryer. I think we're at a lower elevation as well."

"So we could be anywhere?"

"I believe so," Hippie-Xander replied.

"Not anywhere," echoed a familiar voice down the stone hallway. Footsteps clanged against the stone floor as Fzoul's steel clad feet strode purposefully down the hall to their cell. "Here. In secret, the High Temple of Bane."

The two boys looked up to see their captor standing tall in his black armor, flanked by a quartet of guards in faceless black plate.

Xander settled in for the subsequent Big Bad rant, but was disappointed it was not forthcoming. Bane's Chosen looked down on him with interest, seeing the lack of fear rather odd.

"So..." Xander said. "Monologue?"

Fzoul looked at the young man as if he were crazy, being so relaxed in his presence.

"No monologue?" Xander asked, glancing to his counterpart.

"Does not look like it," Hippie-Xander said. Xander looked back to his captor.

"No monologue?" Xander asked in a bit of shock.

Fzoul scoffed.

"No _monologue_?" Xander asked again in confusion.

"What is this 'monologue' of which you speak? I am _no_ actor," the man snarled as he waved his hand, the black armored guards stepping forward to open the cell door. The guard on the left pulled out a large ring of keys and started looking for the correct one. "I am the Chosen of Bane! The Dread Lord of Tyranny! I have served my Divine Master for longer than your puny mind could comprehend. I am his hand that reaches out to do his bidding, crushing those who would dare defy His power! And you DARE call me an actor?"

Xander just nodded and relaxed. That was the monologue he'd been looking for.

"You Fool!" Fzoul snarled, taking Xander's nod for a positive response to the question. "I am _here_! On the verge of bringing His full power to the mortal world, his presence to impress His will upon the scum of Faerûn. You will be integral to His presence!" The cleric turned to his guards. "Take them. I want to know everything. Keep them alive. Keep adepts on hand should the interrogations become a bit too... enthusiastic."

He spared Xander one last glare of fury and spun away, his cloak flaring out behind him. The Xanders watched him go as the guard continued to search for the correct key to the cell. By the time it was found, the clanging footsteps had long since vanished down the hallway. Grinning, he watched as the lock turned and the rusty hinges squeaked as the door swung outwards. One guard took a step in and grasped Xander's dimensional clone by one hand. Xander flashed a grin, stood up and pretended to allow them to take him.

"There's something you should know," Xander said warmly, glancing briefly at the nasty iron club in the man's steel gauntlet. It was almost as long as Xander's forearm and spiked slightly on one end, a simple ring on the end, no doubt to be tied to a belt. As soon as one got close, he pulled up his hand and pointed a single shot Derringer at the guard's helmet. "You should have searched me better."

"Bang," Xander said a moment before pulling the trigger. The armor was useless as the bullet flew straight and true, through the eye-hole, though it did not exit the back of the helm. The other guard started forward, letting go of the other Xander for a second, only to spin and fall forward, his legs flying out from under him. The armor clanged against the stone floor in a heap.

"A Buddhist I may be, but I am not a complete pacifist," 'Hippie' Xander explained as he stepped out of a Kung Fu stance. "My Sunnydale was not so different from yours before I was whisked away. Though I wish to preserve life as much as I can, self-sacrifice is not always for the greater good. I also have no interest in being tortured."

"Right," Xander agreed as he reloaded, before pulling a new bullet from the heel of his boot. Cordy had called him paranoid, but well, he was right, she was wrong and inside Xander was doing a little happy dance. They might have been dating, but Cordelia Chase was still the same girl he and Willow grew up with. His counterpart blocked a club strike with a single hand before reaching out with a foot and letting the attacker fall. Xander stepped on the neck of the first guard his counterpart downed and took aim, but his opponent was a bit too far away.

"We're going to have company soon," Hippie-Xander said nodding to Xander's gun.

"Well, I only have two boots," Xander replied. "I also wasn't expecting this to happen."

"And you've been kidnapped _how many _times?" his counterpart asked.

"That has nothing to do with this!" Xander protested. His counterpart grabbed the club and blocked a swing from the fourth guard. He snuck in and struck twice at the guard's wrist. There was a snap as it broke, the club falling free. The dimensional Xander grabbed it before it could hit the ground and swung both clubs together, hitting joints all along the body, slipping into those points the place armor could not cover.

Xander whistled in amazement. His counterpart shrugged as his opponent fell to the floor. The Buddhist reached down, pulled off the guard's helmet and punched him once in the face, knocking him out.

"That was..."

"Simple self-defense," his counterpart said calmly as he rifled through the downed guards. He pulled out the keyring, some gold and a rope belt. Turning the clubs around, the Buddhist Xander slid the rope through the hoops on the end.

"Rope?" Xander asked. "Why are you tying rope to the clubs?"

"I'm a fan of Bruce Lee movies," his counterpart replied as he cinched the knots tight. He stood up and held the improvised weapon before him, one club in each hand, the rope stretched tight between them.

"Nunchucks?" Xander asked.

"Nunchaku," his counterpart corrected.

"Nunchucks," Xander said with a serious nod.

"Nunchaku," his counterpart replied with a shake of his head. He sighed as Xander was about to continue the pseudo-argument, but cut in. "How many bullets do you have?"

"Um... seven," Xander replied before glancing nervously down the prison corridor. "I need an axe."

"They've got knives," His counterpart suggested, pointing to the downed guards with one end of his new weapon.

"I'm not good with knives," Xander said. "But I'm better with them than with nothing."

"We need something to call ourselves," The dimensionally displaced Xander commented as Xander rifled through belt pouches and other accoutrements. "I mean, if I call you Xander, people will just think I'm a crazy guy talking in the third person."

"I'll call you Baldy," Xander quipped quickly.

"That makes you Hairy," his counterpart quipped back. Xander thought about it, but shook his head.

"No, don't like it," Hairy Xander argued.

"Then you shouldn't have called me Baldy."

* * *

Buffy and Vierna had no idea where to go. Xander had the last working compass (the emu invasion having smashed the other one); their late leader had kept the aerial photographs they used as maps in her fly rod case, which had disintegrated when she had; their Baneite POW still had a broken jaw; and Amy was in no mood to assist and only she knew the password to the computer. Vierna had volunteered some of her other talents, but Buffy drew the line at torturing friends, even if they were dominated by an evil cleric.

"We can't even sight in Sunnydale since those Druids put a forest between us and it," Buffy complained.

"If you think this is any more pleasant to me, you are much mistaken," Vierna replied with a sneer. She cocked her white eyebrow from behind her sunglasses as they attempted to get their bearings. The drow maiden glanced about the rolling hills and sharp line of fresh trees. It had been an indignation she never thought she would be forced to do, but they had given the druids a funeral of sorts. She knew little of surface traditions, but she suspected the tradition of using the dead to fortify armies with "canon fodder" was not applicable, so there was little she could do to help in sending them to Silvanus. Buffy had considered digging graves, but they had no shovels beyond a small collapsible spade used for digging latrines. Even a Slayer would get tired using that for proper graves.

Instead they had stripped the druid corpses and laid them out in lines. Together, they had built a cairn for each body with as large stones as they could find and carry. The Sunnydaler and Drow had said something of a prayer over the cairns, before finally planting a shrubbery at the head of each. Afterward they did the same to the dead Baneites, though without prayer or much respect. It was a quite a surprise to their mute captive who had never thought a heathen would do anything but leave the corpses out for the scavengers.

Buffy, having learned something of burial rituals from her years of Slaying, buried the Baneites face down. She didn't cut off the heads like Vierna suggested, but at least this way they'd be digging the wrong way if they turned into the living dead.

"What about the tree person?" Buffy asked.

"What about it?" Vierna asked testily.

"Too big to bury or cover with rocks, so what should we do?" Buffy asked.

"Drag it to a riverbank and stick its feet in some mud if you feel so strongly about it. It's a plant after all," the Drow maiden said dismissively. Buffy, however, did exactly that. This feeble attempt at burial ended up saving the treant's life, but that's a story for another time.

They'd rolled up the tent, tied Amy and the POW up with rope and gags, and started vaguely back in the right direction for Sunnydale. Vague in the idea that they went east. But travel can be difficult in a forest. Far off features are more difficult or impossible to see and one can walk right up to an animal but only spot them when you were already far within their personal space. In the past few days they had run into deer, more emus and even had a tense encounter of a different sort.

Buffy paused as she heard a deep, rumbling chuckle. Turning quickly, her axe and sword in hand, she came face to face with a worg. Worgs are huge wolves that were larger than most humans. Nearly two meters in length, they weighed in at nearly 150 kg and their shoulders were level with Buffy's chest. Far from mindless beasts, they had their own language of barks, growls and noises one would expect from canines, though the smartest of them could understand and even sometimes speak humanoid languages.

Vierna set her jaw. This was not the pack they'd encountered on the first leg of their expedition and not all would be as well fed as that pack had been. Grrr-Argh had been a powerful and magnanimous Alpha Female. The massive male before her had scars of battle across his snout and fangs that had surely seen plenty of use.

"Four little ones alone in the woods," it said, mouth opened in a canine grin, but it was not simple amusement.

"They can talk?" Buffy demanded.

"Oh, little snack," the grizzled male rumbled as he flicked his tongue over his jowls, "of course we can talk. Beasts we may be, but mindless we are not."

"Not liking the pet name, floor rug," Buffy replied as she flexed her muscles.

"Should I used your title, then, oh Slayer?" the massive wolf inquired with a dark chuckle. Buffy tensed more and Vierna gaped in shock. "Oh don't be surprised, Fallen Priestess." It chuckled before turning all its attention on Buffy. "Your little village has shaken things on many levels. Your hunt has been quite entertaining. I loved your battles against the demons of Hellgate Keep; baiting and stalking the undead until you erase them with a bit of wood or steel is a constant source of amusement; your challenge against Bane might be another. He would force all to conform, but nature should be wild and free."

"Look, buddy, that's a little creepy, you knowing all those things about me," Buffy replied, ready to spring at the first hint of violence.

"While I'm sure a battle with you would be ferocious and entertaining, watching you hunt Bane's little tool should prove more so," the worg stated, salivating almost as if he was looking at a big juicy slab of beef. "Eyes are on Sunnydale. We've known your little settlement would change everything in the Realms. How? Well, not even Mystra kept the Sphere of Time from when she was Mystryl. Change, but only time will tell who is the fittest, who will survive. Will it be your controlled Chaos? Or will it be Bane's chaotically-inspiring Control?"

"I'm not letting that Fizzy-Tool guy win," Buffy stated flatly.

"We shall see," the wolf replied with a noncommittal tone. "While those of Silvanus are worried about the plants, the foals, the song birds, and the cute little bunnies; _I_ am not. You have thrown everything into disarray. It's delightful. The old balance is in the past and everything now must change again. Those that ruled the grasslands, the forests, the deserts, now must compete with the new. Not even I can say who will prove weakest of the Silver Marches now. You, who clogged the River Shining with mud, have changed _everything_. It is _wonderful_."

"Are you here to ask me to do something? Give me some kind of advice?" Buffy asked.

"Just to give you, the greatest of mortal hunters, My warning," the worg replied. "Never slay the pregnant or the young unless already dead. Never let disease run unchecked. Thin the herd of the weak. Leave only the fittest."

"The strongest are probably going to get killed if they attack me," Buffy said.

"Then you will have proven the strongest to be unfit," was the simple reply. "Keep entertaining Me. You're a lioness that looks like a lamb. Prove your fitness in the new realms. Spread your fitness to the next generation. I look forward to your Hunt."

And with that the worg turned, one silent, massive paw in front of the other, and vanished into the thick underbrush without a sound. The four travelers gaped after him as the other worgs similarly vanished. They glanced away as a sudden breeze picked up. Light flickered through the trees, briefly illuminating the forest floor. Buffy glanced down and saw a pair of brown gloves at her feet, right where the worg had stood. She bent down and picked them up. Leather and blackened metal, they were lighter than they looked. Slipping a hand in, she realized they fit perfectly.

The wind died and the four stood back up. Vierna squinted at Buffy.

"You said you didn't know worg," the drow maiden accused.

"I don't," Buffy protested.

"Then how else did you speak with the worg?" she demanded.

"It was speaking English."

"I speak worg, and that one had an accent even _I_ could barely decipher," Vierna stated, her eyes narrowed in accusation. "But it was _not_ speaking English."

"It totally was. Told me to hunt and not kill kids and stuff," Buffy protested. She turned and her ears just faintly caught the sound of a howl off in the distance. She pointed in the direction. "That way. Come on."

"This isn't over," Vierna warned as she pushed Amy and the prisoner forward with her flail.

* * *

The rothé-pulled wagons had rolled over the recovering grasslands for the better part of a week when they encountered a forest. Now, one would normally see a forest first in the distance, especially on the treeless grasslands of southern Turnstone Pass, so when they rose out of a gully to find what appeared to be an ancient old wood forest, it was quite a surprise.

"Let's camp in here," Elder Willow said to her rothé herder guides. The previous day they'd seen nothing like it, but there was a calming aura over the area that felt so comforting and familiar. She glanced to the sides and noticed the one of the hobgoblins fidget in her seat. The rothé herder's pulse raced and she could only take shallow breaths.

"Are you okay?" Willow the Younger asked a moment before the middle-aged hobgoblin tossed the reins up in the air and fled. "Wait!"

The hobgoblin didn't appear to have listened as she ran full tilt.

"What is going on?" Elder Willow asked, looking to the other Hobgoblins who were showing similar behavior. A moment later they bolted after the other one.

"Frankly I'm surprised they lasted this long."

The Willows turned as one to see a shortish man leaning up against a tree. He was dressed in a tunic like many of the more wealthy traders who made their way to Sunnydale, but his long hair was white and his chin had just a bit of a beard that gave the impression of just being trimmed. He had a mandolin in his hands, his backpack and staff nestled in the roots on the ground.

"What did you do to them?" demanded Dark Willow, her eyes starting to fill with blackness as she called up her arcane might.

"Relax, it was nothing I've done. It's this place," he said waving a hand to encompass the wooded glade. "None who have consumed the flesh of humans, elves or dwarves can stay here. They're quite devoted to you, so I expect you'll find them outside the Mythal."

"Mythal?" Willow the Younger asked as she focused on something other than the eating of sentient beings. Had she been from anywhere else but Sunnydale she probably would have been sick, but awareness of vampires gave her a bit of a steel spine when it came to cannibalism.

"Ancient Elven magic," the man explained. "This is the lost city of Myth Glaurach, the City of Scrolls."

"And that would be why we couldn't see it until it was right upon us?" Dark Willow asked.

"Precisely," the man said with a warm smile. He strummed the strings of his instrument. "Your red-furred friends aren't saints. They served dragons for generations, the Blood of Morueme. Those dragons hoarded knowledge, hiding it, adding more to it. The Red Flayers, your pet hobgoblin tribe, served them, kept slaves; even ate those slaves."

"Why are you telling us this?" Dark Willow demanded.

"I thought you should know," he explained. "You've done great things for them. You've changed their destiny. They are already not what they once were. Your group has done this before. Turning enemies into allies, or at least changing things. Angelus comes to mind."

"Who are you?" Both Willows asked in unison.

"You're smart, figure it out," the man said with a grin. "You've attracted a lot of attention. Eyes are on you, and your towns. I love knowing that you're building a nation out of an abandoned, cursed slice of land. So much has come here before, empires risen and lost." He rapped his knuckles on the wood of the massive tree behind him. "Myth Glaurach is an example. Your new residence is another."

"The Dragonspire?" Dark Willow asked. He nodded.

"One of the last remnants of Netheril. The mage had started building her city first, carving it out of the mountain," the man explained. "She did it reverse of most others, they cut the mountain first, then made the city. She never finished the mythallar. She always was more focused on aesthetics than function. Then Karsus pulled his stupid and not much survived. Dragonspire was abandoned until the Blood of Morueme moved in, breaking wards and walls before setting it up as their base of operations. Changed the name to Morueme's Cave. The ancestors of your minions were brought in as cannon fodder to protect the dragon clan. They ruled for centuries until your buddy was just a little too late in stabbing her boyfriend."

"Buffy," Willow said quietly. "You mean they were the dragons that attacked us?"

"The blue ones, yes. The Green Wyrm was just an angry prick who got trapped under your city and his hoard filled with water, survived by breathing acid to the surface," the man explained. "But the blue ones. Yeah. The Blood of Morueme." He took a swig from a wineskin before holding it out to the two women. "Wine? Good Neverwinter vintage. No? Suit yourself." He shrugged. "But you two showed up. Causing trouble. Casting spells. Calling on deities. Troublesome."

"Why are you telling us this?" Willow the Younger asked.

"Thought you two would like to know," he replied as he corked his wineskin and tucked it back in his knapsack. "I also have a request of you."

"Request?" Dark Willow asked, her head cocked as if looking for the trap.

"The Blood kept all sorts of nice tidbits up in their cave. Spread it around. Share the knowledge," he said. "You two can't use it all. Even with your lengthened lifespans, you can't use it all. Record it, give it to Sunnydale, use some for trade. Spread it around. And when you've finished dealing with Bane's little minion, bring the Scrolls back here to the city where they belong."

"The City of Scrolls," Willow said, pondering the slight emphasis the man put on "scrolls" as if it meant something more than a rolled up piece of parchment.

"Exactly. And keep an eye on your fanboys and girls. They might revert unless you introduce them to what freedom really means," the man explained as he fiddled with his mandolin, plucking the strings and trying to tweak the knobs. He shot a glare at the instrument in his hands. "Damn thing never stays in tune."

"What do you think we should do?" Willow the younger asked.

"What you think is right," he replied honestly. He glanced around the wooded glade. "It would be nice to see this city filled with people again. Been too long."

"How old are you?" Dark Willow asked as she took in the moss covered ruins. It looked like it hadn't been occupied in centuries.

"Old enough," he replied. He nodded to something behind them. "Your buddies are back."

The Willows turned to see their red furred helpers shivering as they made their way back towards the Mythal. The rothé grumbled and started plodding towards their keepers.

"But you said they-" Willow cut herself off as she turned to look back at the man and found him gone, the only sign that he'd ever been there a matted place among the roots of the tree. "Where'd he go?"

"I'm pretty sure he was going for dramatic and we won't find him," Dark Willow replied. "Come on. Let's get going."

* * *

Like a bad joke, three vampires and a werewolf walked into a bar. But this was no ordinary bar, not even in an extraordinary city like Waterdeep, the City of Splendors. Well, that is to say, it looked like an ordinary bar, it smelled like an ordinary bar; it served drinks like an ordinary bar.

But it was no ordinary bar.

Selûne's Smile was in the Trades Ward of Waterdeep. It was a post and beam building with plaster walls and a sign outside of an ornately carved crescent moon, worn with age but with golden paint that always seemed new. The floor creaked; the windows rattled; the tables were once rough wood, but had been used for so long that they had been worn down, with the grain rising up like dunes on a wooden ocean shore. The beer was neither especially good, nor especially bad, but something in the tolerable medium range. While they served beverages in glass mugs the size of a Frost Giant's clenched fist, this was only unusual outside of Waterdeep itself.

"Months," Spike grumbled. "Some crackpot hobbit with a shiny necklace gives a cryptic suggestion and you two spend _months_ trying to find the bloody place. Wanker could have at least told us it was public house. A shabby public house at that."

"Shut up, Spike," Angel said, not for the first time. While their stay in Waterdeep had been interesting, and quite eventful, Spike had become increasingly irritable and perhaps more importantly, _irritating_. His antics were driving Angel up the wall, of course it didn't help that all three vampires were feeling _hungry_ all the time. A purchase of blood from the butcher just wasn't cutting it. Not to mention you can only pretend to be making blood pudding for so long before people start asking questions.

"Not now, Spiky! Daddy found it and it's all done," Drusilla replied. "Everything's done. Like wisps of willow and ash and fog and moonbeams."

"Let's go get something to drink," Oz suggested, saddling up to the bar.

The proprietor was middle-aged with pale gray/white hair and a rounded figure. She was there every night and made sure she knew what the regulars wanted and could supply newcomers easily enough.

"Come, sit down, what are you looking for?" she asked the strange quartet.

A handsome man opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut as Drusilla launched herself into the air. She tumbled over the bar, skirts and long hair trailing and spinning behind her. The dark haired woman grabbed the bartender in a tight hug. Her companions looked ready to pull the madwoman off the poor barkeep, but paused as they realized no fangs had come out.

"I came, Miss Edith, just like you told me," Drusilla announced.

"Bloody Hell, Dru!" Spike demanded, pointing at the silver-haired woman. "You mean to tell me _this_ is the Miss Edith you've been talking to all these years?!"

"I'm asking the same question, myself," Angel muttered. He glanced around nervously as loyal patrons started to stand with dark looks. Angel, as Angelus, had been in dangerous mob fights before and he had no interest in being a target again.

"It's fine," the woman said. She held out a hand in Sunnydale style to Oz. "I'm Luna. I've been told to expect you."

"You were?" Angel asked.

She hummed in agreement and nodded as she cleaned a glass beer mug.

"Drinks?"

"Root beer," Oz said instantly. Spike looked at him scandalized, but the guitarist shrugged. "Buzz kills the tunes."

"You know that stuff causes cancer, don't you?" Angel argued.

"Yep," Oz said. "Just like the last time you told me and the time before that."

"Not much call for root beer around here," Luna said before rooting around under the bar. She pulled out a bottle, poured a glass and passed it over. "From Shadowdale. If Khelben didn't show up for a drink every now and a then I wouldn't have it at all. And the rest of you?"

"Beer," Spike said quickly before Angel could stop him.

"We don't have that much money," Angel reminded him. "At least you didn't order bloodwine this time."

"Gagh!" Spike spat in disgust. "Looks right, but stuff doesn't have a spit of blood in it! False advertising, that is!"

"I've got just the thing for you both," Luna said. "Just take me a few minutes to fix it up.

"Fine, how much then?" Angel asked. He paid the noted amount, pleased that it was less than what he expected and waited as Luna vanished into the back room. Once there the silver-haired barkeep went into the darkest corners of her larder and pulled out an old dust covered keg. If it truly were beer, it would have long since spoiled. If it truly were beer. She pulled out three clean mugs, dusted off the spigot with a hand towel and cranked it hard. The ancient wood creaked harshly and liquid of a hue just a few shades more brown than red filled each mug in turn. She set the filled mugs on a tray, and sealed the keg once more, pushing it back into the half-forgotten corner it started in.

Luna set the tray on the counter and passed them out: one to Angel, one to Spike and one to Drusilla. "Drink up. I can guarantee you won't find anything like it anywhere else."

The two male vampires gave the garnet colored drink an odd look, but Drusilla threw it back and chugged it down as only someone who didn't need to breath could. She finished it with a big grin and wiped the foam from her face with her cuff, ruffles and all. That was enough for Spike and he did the same. Not seeing any negative results, Angel took a sip and found it like nothing he'd ever tasted.

Vampires don't taste food like normal people do. Food and normal drink are bland, give no special properties to one of the undead. Vampires have no thirst or hunger for them, only for blood and mayhem. So when Angel tasted the draught, he knew it wasn't blood, but it was better. He couldn't help himself and he drank until the mug was dry. For some reason his eyelids felt heavy. Letting them close, he fell forward, clunking his forehead against the wood of the bar.

Oz looked on in confusion as his three companions passed out on the bar.

"Was that supposed to happen?" he asked.

"Only if I did it right," Luna said. "Another root beer?"

"Sure," Oz replied, passing her his glass. She filled it up and passed it over to him.

"You've been noticing it right?" Luna asked.

"Maybe," Oz replied diplomatically.

"They _haven't_ noticed," Luna replied nodding to the three vampires. "I'd imagine it would be difficult to spot at first. Feeling a bit of a burn when climbing a long set of stairs or walking up a long slope. Feeling hungry even with bellies full of blood. Waking up in the middle of the day when they rolled over in their sleep and covered their mouths and noses."

"The fact that they're actually sleeping instead of just hiding from the sun," a dark haired man with a sharply trimmed beard said. He sat down next to Oz and set his ebony staff against the bar. "Root beer, if you please Luna."

"Right away, Khelben."

"So, another who enjoys a decent beverage for a change," the wizard said.

"Yup," Oz said with a nod.

"You know what they are, right?" Khelben said.

"Yup," Oz replied. "Vampires."

"And you are traveling with them, why?"

"Complicated," Oz replied. "Had to get a cure, they came along."

"Cure?" Khelben Arunsun asked.

"Werewolf," Oz said, pointing a thumb to his chest. "But controlled."

"Good, because the alternative would be your extermination," the wizard of Waterdeep commented.

"Harsh, but fair," Oz admitted. "You?"

"Being from Sunnydale you might not know, but most would at least get the name," Khelben Blackstaff Arunsun replied. "Suffice it to say I am a wizard, more than just a simple dabbler, and Waterdeep is my home. And I like my home to stay safe."

"Fair enough," Oz said, before turning to stare at the vampires who had now begun to snore. "What was in that stuff?"

"Humus," Luna replied as she dusted out a beer mug.

"Humus?" Oz asked.

"Holy Humus," Luna clarified. Oz nodded sagely as if some great mystery of the universe was now understood. "From what I've been told, those three are going to have some big changes."

"Will they be human again?" Oz asked.

"Not exactly," Luna replied. "They'll be something else. But the curse will be gone from Angel and the other two will have their limits of power changed." She smiled kindly at Oz's worried expression. "Stay your concern. The curse is removed, not the soul. Indeed their demons will merge with what's left of their humanity."

"So what? Only mostly dead?" Oz asked, taking another sip off his root beer.

"They'll be both mortal and demonic," Khelben replied. "No longer human, but not full demon either. We have a word for their kind: Planetouched."

"Huh?" Oz asked.

"Those whose ancestry originates from the outer planes or have been changed by those same powers," the wizard explained. "Much like the Tanarukk who assaulted Sunnydale before you left."

"Ah," said Oz.

"There are others, the Aasimar, the Tieflings, of which your friends will be a subtype," Khelben explained. "Mortal children of the children of celestials and infernals who crossed their lineage with mortals. That's the usual way of going about it. Your companions have a bit of a different path."

"It's because of the way the demon vampire strain spreads. Demons infesting bodies instead of just undead plagues. While weaker than our native vampires, thank goodness for that, they are capable of blending in with mortals much easier. They have no need of resting in their coffin or a need for native grave soil, and that makes them more than a little terrifying than your average walking corpse," Luna explained as she poured a series of drinks and set them on a platter for a waitress to deliver. "Because of this, there were some who argued for wholesale destruction of Sunnydale 'just in case.' People tend to remember what happened in Hellgate Keep, and they had no desire to have the same happen again without ancient magics warding the demons in."

"But cooler heads prevailed," Khelben said. "We cannot blame all of your people for the actions of a few demons, no matter how terrible their Line once was, nor how conniving their type is." He turned to look at the last of the Scourge of Europe, the last of the Order of Aurelius. "But we heard stories. My wife's sister read the accounts of their ravaging of a place called Europe. Angelus especially was the worst of the worst: the demon with an angel's face."

"Yes, he was," Oz agreed. "But now they're going to _live_?"

"Angel was not Angelus, not with his soul and conscience," Luna explained. "I can understand the Romany's rage, but that curse could not be allowed to break again. But on the other hand, Angel could be a champion of good if he did not have to worry about the curse."

"So you made it so he's plain touched?" Oz asked.

"No, planetouched," Khelben replied. He chuckled when Oz gave him a funny look. "You are wearing a translation amulet. We hear the difference even if they sound the same in your tongue."

"Ah," the werewolf replied. "But what now?"

"Now they sleep it off," Luna said. "Then they wake up and feel the hunger inherent in mortality. Which is why you'll be there with breads and rolls at the inn as well as other staples for them to break their fasts on. We wouldn't want them to mistake their fellow people as the food they need. Then, when they return, they'll spread the cure like a counter plague, transforming more of their kind."

"Good news," Oz replied. "But we don't have an inn yet."

"I know a place," Khelben said. "Now, you finish up that wonderful drink of yours and I'll have a carriage bring you there."

"Thanks," Oz replied. "But how much?"

"Tonight and tomorrow are on me," the wizard replied. "Any more than that and you'll have to pay. But the tavern has quite reasonable rates or so I've heard. They also have an excellent shepherd's pie."

Oz nodded politely. Eventually he finished his drink and left, a few guards assisting him with the passed out vampires. When they were gone, Luna flashed the wizard with a bemused smile.

"Why were you so willing to lend a hand, Khelben?" Luna asked. "Usually getting to you help is like pulling teeth."

"My divinations on Sunnydale told me that if Angel was not changed he would be at least partially responsible for the return to power of one of the most dreaded forces in the history of Faerûn," the wizard replied, pushing himself to his feet with his Blackstaff.

"The archdemons of the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart?" Luna inquired.

"Well, those and something worse," Khelben replied. The silver-haired woman raised an eyebrow. The archmage of Waterdeep shivered and looked away before muttering an explanation. "_Lawyers_."

Oz looked up when he heard silver laughter fill the streets, but shrugged as the carriage started moving, and focused on the busy night streets of Waterdeep, the City of Splendors.

* * *

After a bit more looting, the two Xanders started down the corridor. The cells were all occupied, some with only a few, others with many, almost with no standing room. The people were dressed in rags. Hairy Xander spotted a few who looked to have once been better off, a few bearing the black and silver of the Zhentarim Black Cloaks.

"We should let them out," Baldy Xander suggested.

"We don't know where we are," Hairy countered.

"And they probably do," Baldy Xander reminded his counterpart.

"Point," Hairy agreed with a nod. One by one they opened the cages. The people filed out and cued up as if they were used to this happening before. It was the eyes that struck both Xanders the most. Their eyes seemed to hold no interest in anything besides orders.

"How do we get out?" Baldy Xander asked one of them in the trade tongue. Haltingly, the dirty, wretched person, sex was indeterminate under the rags and filth, pointed down the corridor. The Xanders thanked him/her and went onwards, the newly freed prisoners following. They continued to follow the directions of the locals when they encountered an intersection and stepped up their movements as fast as the freed prisoners could follow. Every corridor was the same black stone blocks, old and worn smooth, but indistinguishable from the rest. There were no windows, only occasional sconces for light, and everything seemed to blend together. Neither Xander would have been able to backtrack to the beginning easily.

"No guards," Hairy Xander commented quietly. "For a guy as obsessed with control, why haven't we run into any guards?"

"That's a very good question," Baldy said. He glanced over his shoulder to their guide. The weak, starving person simply pointed forward. "We go forward, I guess."

This corridor was sloped, going downward at a slight angle, but not so much that it required steps. The air was moist, and getting more so the farther down they went. The horde of released prisoners followed the two Xanders as they made their way. At the bottom of the corridor, it hit a landing and made a sharp ninety degree turn to the left where it continued for a short ways before ending at a set of heavy wooden double doors.

"So, is this it?" Baldy Xander asked in the trade tongue. The prisoner nodded. Shrugging, the dimensional twins pushed the double doors open to reveal a line of soldiers with crossbows aimed at the door.

"A trap," Hairy Xander grumbled. "De-fucking-lightful."

"Ah, I see you have arrived, as was Lord Bane's plan," Fzoul said from behind the soldiers. He was standing on a platform with two long stone slabs, each the basic size of a coffin. Robed clerics stood on either side of the platform, their necks adorned with amulets displaying power escaping from a black clawed hand clenched into a fist. "Bring them."

Hairy Xander glanced behind him to see that the "prisoners" had all pulled out daggers. They surged forward, their broken eyes filled with spiritlessness as they carried out the command. Hands reached out before the two young men could heft their weapons. Both Xanders struggled, but there were too many and this time there was no Buffy to save them.

Despite their futile struggles, they were dragged up onto the sacrificial platform.

"You're going to pay for this," Xander promised. "You have no idea what you're about to awaken."

"Oh, that's where you are wrong," Fzoul replied with a dark smile as he sharpened a knife as black as the night's sky. He glanced at the rag covered minions. "Chain them up!"

"When you die I'm going to be waiting, Fizzy," Xander said. He glanced at his counterpart who looked equally serious. "We'll be waiting."

"Nonsense," Fzoul said as he gave the knife another pass on the whetstone. "You'll be stuck in the wall of the faithless, a plaything for Myrkul's pets. You, and all your kind, will watch helplessly as The Lord of Tyranny reshapes the world as he wills."

The high priest of Bane turned to face the kneeling followers and held his hands high even as both Xanders struggled to escape the chains that bound them to the stone slabs. "Today we see the birth of Lord Bane's Divine Plan! He who rules with an iron fist, shall come here, to Toril, in Flesh that shows his full power for all to see!"

"Ah, there's the monologue part two," Xander said. The clerics walked forward and took shears to the Xanders' clothes, leaving them covered only in chains. Whispering words in a language neither Sunnydaler understood, the black robed priests anointed the two with an oil on the chest, forehead and navel. Both tried to struggle, to slip their hands free, but the chains were too big, the manacles too tight and the more they struggled, the tighter the chains pinned them to the slabs.

Fzoul chanted, giving his monologue to his followers, switching between languages. The followers, guards, priests and knelt on the stone floor, folding their hands together and leaning forward until their foreheads touched the cold stone.

Xander looked over to his counterpart as Fzoul ran a hand along the man's chest. He could see the high priest's fingers press over the other Xander's heart, as he felt the pumping of the other Xander's lifeblood. Fzoul removed his fingers and drove the blade perfectly through the ribs. Xander was helpless as he watched someone who looked exactly like him die. Blood issued forth, spilling over the stone and running along channels down to a depression between the slabs where it pooled.

Fzoul walked purposefully over to Xander. He smiled the smile of a fanatic. He ignored the obscenities Xander hurled at him, never even flinched at the spittle Xander shot into his eyes. Xander could feel the high priest's fore- and middle-fingers pressing onto his heart, digging into his flesh as they felt his racing pulse. There was an unnatural light in the man's eyes, a look of glee and anticipation Xander had seen in the eyes of other monsters before.

There was strangely not as much pain as Xander expected when the blade slid between his ribs. It was quite painful, but Xander always thought it would be worse. As the blood drained from his chest, Xander watched as it ran into the pool even as he died. As he died, he saw the pool glow with supernatural intensity.

With that final sacrifice complete, Fzoul tossed by the pinchful a special concoction of herbs, liquids and other precious substances into the pool. With every pinch, the glow intensified until it was a heatless blaze that only fanaticism prevented them from looking away. When the bowl was empty, the clerics lined up, holding their arms bare. Fzoul took up the ebony blade once more and sliced their forearms from wrist to elbow. The clerics held out their arms to the pool, letting their red blood dribble into the growing blaze.

When the last cleric gave their blood, the temple shook from peak to foundation. The blaze spilled out beyond the confines of the pool to cover the entire sacrificial platform. The clerics and Fzoul bowed down.

A hand reached out and clenched the blaze in one black fist.

"**Rise, Fzoul**," said Bane, a smile on Xander's face. Fzoul looked up with fanatic intensity at the Avatar of his god. Xander's body stood up, it's new obsidian skin bending and cracking as the joints moved. "**This body is strong, it's mind full of Sunnydale's secrets. You have pleased me.**"

"Everything I do is for your glory, Lord Bane," Fzoul said giving the avatar a slight bow of diffidence.

"**Now listen, for I shall tell you how we shall anchor Sunnydale and all its secrets within our grasp!**"

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Luna appeared in "Advanced Dungeon's & Dragons," a comic DC produced in the early 90s set in Waterdeep and the surrounding area with a few longer jaunts here and there. It had some excellent story telling which highlighted Khelben's hatred and fear of lawyers. Yes, folks. That's Forgotten Realms canon._

_If you didn't know, Buffy spoke with Malar, the Deity of Beasts. Willow and Willow spoke with Azuth, one of the minor deities of magic, who showed up in a slightly younger form than usual. Luna is an Avatar of Selune, the Moon Goddess, that is bound to the Prime Material Plane._

_Thanks again to the amazing, the wonderful, the talented, Janessa Ravenwood. This wouldn't be possible without her._


End file.
